Harry Potter and the Wizard's Oath
by Forestwytch
Summary: Summer before 3rd Year, Harry is stuck at Privet Drive with his abusive relatives. His battle to stay sane is interupted by the arrival of the Potion's Master.  Rated M for mature content  child abuse/non con
1. Dudley

_A/N: Obviously I don't own the characters or anything else you recognise, otherwise I would be on a beach somewhere rather than writing. This story contains child abuse, if you don't like, don't read. It's a serious crime and is not a joke. No flames please, they're not appreciated. Please review and let me know whether to continue. Enjoy!_

Deep in the South-eastern corner of England, in the county of Surrey, stood the small town of Little Whinging. The houses were all very similar; built by the same building firm who had only four differing designs. Privet Drive was a cul-de-sac of four bedroom houses with ample back gardens, each indistinguishable from the next. The Dursley family of number four were very happy with this normality and uniformity and took great pains to make sure that nothing was ever abnormal or strange, thank you very much. An impressive achievement considering the presence in their house of one Harry Potter, Saviour of the Wizarding World, Champion of the Light, The Boy Who Lived. Or just "Boy" as he was called during the torturous summer months when he returned to Privet Drive from Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry to live with his Uncle Vernon, Aunt Petunia and Cousin Dudley. Uncle Vernon was a large man, but like many large men, had more strength than his fat suggested. He worked for a company that made drill bits and had a very over-inflated sense of his own importance. Aunt Petunia was a tall, thin woman, almost the opposite of Vernon, except for the expression on her face, which reminded Harry of somebody who had a bad smell under their nose. All summer, she spent most of her time tending to his Cousin Dudley's every whim, while leaving Harry to clean the house and cook the meals, none of which he was allowed to eat.

The saviour of the wizarding world was currently scrubbing his Cousin's en-suite bathroom clean with a toothbrush. His own to be precise, as punishment for using the family bathroom to relieve himself instead of the bucket in his room. The fact that his back and arms still bore the marks of his Uncle's rage at his "contamination" of the "normal people's bathroom" was something that Harry had learned to ignore. Whining about pain didn't make it go away. In fact, depending on who heard, the pain could very well increase. He was always very careful not to complain or make any sort of noise that could be interpreted as a complaint. He'd known from an early age that complainers didn't get fed, and that the scraps from under the Dursleys table were ample, if he didn't want another beating for "ungratefulness". He ate well most of the year, either Mrs Weasley's wonderful cooking or the house elves' at Hogwarts. Three months on low rations didn't seem that bad for the protection that Dumbledore insisted was his only chance of survival into adulthood. Harry didn't often wonder if Dumbledore knew how he was treated at the Dursleys; it was something he'd rather not think about; mainly because he suspected that the Dursleys would kill him before Voldemort ever got a chance. As he scrubbed round the base of the toilet, Harry started mentally counting the days until he could escape back to Hogwarts. This year would be his third year and he was hoping that nothing out-of-the-ordinary would happen. His first year was a nightmare; his Uncle had beaten him black-and-blue when Hagrid had returned him to Privet Drive, clutching his wand, owl and cauldron. The favours that his Uncle had demanded of him to release said items from the garage were something the Harry still did not like thinking about. He had gone to Hogwarts with no idea what to expect, and found that not everybody was good just because they had magic. He had learned more about Voldemort than he really wished too, and had ended up defeating him over the Philosopher's Stone. His second year was even worse, most of the school thought he was Slytherin's Heir after his display of Parseltongue. The only people who had stood by him were Hermione and Ron, his two best (and only, he sometimes wondered) friends.

His musings were interrupted by Dudley, who proceeded to undo all Harry's hard work by urinating all over the floor, wash basin and Harry himself. Knowing it was pointless, Harry tried to stand up to go and change.

"Where do you think you're going, freak? Who said you could go?"

"I'd like to go and change my wet clothes."

Dudley pushed Harry back down onto his knees and presented his limp penis.

"Suck me off and I won't tell Dad you made a mess in my bathroom. I know you want to, freaks like you always do!"

Resigning himself to the inevitable, Harry started to fondle Dudley, stroking his balls and licking around the base of his penis. As Dudley got harder, he started to push himself further down Harry's throat, choking him. This only made him more excited and he started to thrust in earnest, holding his cousins head to stop him pulling away. He started to pant and groan, muttering,

"Oh yeah, take it…take it all…play with the head…yeah, you like that don't you…freak's a fag too, you must be to be this good…oh yeah…yeah…fuck it…oooh."

With a loud grunt he released his seed and pulled out of Harry's mouth, wiping his rapidly softening penis across Harry's cheeks.

"You do that too well you know, I'll tell Dad you're a fag. Unless you want to try and persuade me to keep quiet that is?" He asked, with a questioning look.

Harry quickly assessed his options, realising that Dudley would tell his Uncle Vernon anyway, but if he agreed, Dudley would want him to do…he shuddered…_that_ again.

"Tell him then, it won't make it true," said Harry, more nervously than he had hoped to sound, "but we both know that you are, don't we?"

Dudley squawked with indignation and punched him square on the nose. For the sixth time in his life, Harry both heard and felt the sickening crunch that meant his nose had been broken. Again. His glasses went flying off into a dark corner of Dudley's bathroom and blood started to pour from his nose. While he desperately attempted to staunch the flow of blood with his shirt, he tipped his head back, pinching the bridge of his nose. Without his glasses he could see very little, but could see enough to watch Dudley waddle a little closer to him.

"Call me a homo again and I'll do worse than ram it down your throat, you worthless piece of shit."

With that, Dudley swung his foot as hard as he could and kicked Harry between the legs. Harry collapsed on the floor and curled in a ball, the shirt meant to be stemming the flow of blood from his nose forgotten. Blood started to pool on the floor next to him, marking the expensive cream coloured bathroom mats Aunt Petunia had bought only the previous week. His last memory before everything went black was hearing Dudley calling for his parents because the freak had made a mess in his bathroom.


	2. Vernon

_A/N: I do not own Harry Potter, or anything you'd recognise. Don't sue me, I can't afford it.__ This chapter contains graphic non/dub con and child abuse, if you don't like it don't read it. It's a serious crime and not a joke. No flames please, they're not appreciated. I will usually try to update once a week, but as I had this chapter ready, I'm posting it now due to demand. Review please!_

As he regained consciousness, Harry realised he was lying on his excuse for a bed. Although the Dursley's had given him Dudley's second bedroom (much to Dudley's disgust) after the arrival of his first Hogwarts letter two years ago, their generosity had not extended to furniture. Harry had furnished it himself from broken units scrounged from skips, further adding to the image of him the Dursley's had portrayed to the neighbourhood. It had taken many years to piece together a bed, a desk and a dresser unit, not only because he had to get the pieces home and fix them without Dudley seeing, but also because he was only allowed out when the welts and bruises from his latest punishment had healed enough to be unremarkable. The bed Harry lay on was pieced together from two different beds, held together with many extra pieces of wood, and more than a little hope. It had seven legs and wobbled. His mattress was a moth-eaten single duvet cover stuffed with all the oversized castoffs that Petunia had given him that didn't actually fit any more. The result was a little lumpy and nothing like his wonderful four-poster bed at Hogwarts, but was considerably better than the blood-stained floorboards of his room.

As his awareness grew, Harry took stock of his condition. His face was still sticky, so his nose has stopped bleeding but not long ago, and his testicles still throbbed with every beat of his heart. Although he thought he could walk, there was no question of running to avoid he inevitable beating from Uncle Vernon. He wasn't currently tied or restrained in any way, but the door to his bedroom was shut, and once Harry had managed to hobble across the room, he realised it was locked as well. Unable to tell the time of day as the two small windows of his bedroom had been boarded over following the Weasley's breaking him out the previous summer, Harry lay down on his lumpy bed and wondered what Vernon would do to him _this_ time. After all, he had not only made a mess in Dudley's bathroom, but had talked back to him as well. Dudley was more than capable of making up something to get him into more trouble than just the blood on the floor would warrant. In many ways, he knew the way he was treated by his relatives wasn't right, but the years had worn a groove – he was so used to this kind of treatment that it was normal. If anything, being allowed to attend a boarding school was worse than a day school, like going to primary school had been. He now knew what it was like not to have to scrub and clean all the time, to have to obey his Uncle's perverted wishes and to be beaten within an inch of his life for every minor mistake. It wasn't until he had made friends that Dudley couldn't scare away, from families that couldn't have any pre-conceived notions of his character from his Aunt and Uncle, that he really finally and fully realise that other children were not treated the way he was. Carefully worded conversations with Ron revealed that Mrs Weasley would, if her considerable vocabulary at impressive volumes did not elicit suitably chastened children, administer a maximum of ten swats on a clothed backside with a wooden spoon kept specifically for this purpose. Ron tried to explain that it wasn't that it hurt so much but that, "it's the shame of that damned spoon calling out your name with each whack, so the whole household knows you've done something bad enough to warrant the spoon."

When questioned, Harry intimated that Vernon had a similar method, and changed the subject quickly. Vernon tended to use his belt for "normal" punishments, the buckle end for something more severe, and sexual favours for the worst transgressions. Which seemed to be everything up to an including breathing this summer. When he had returned home in June, Harry had been bundled into his room by his Uncle, stripped and made to give his Uncle a blow-job, the first for several years. Since then, his Uncle had visited his room two or three times a week, each time daring to go a little further. Uncle Vernon seemed to think that because Petunia was unwilling to sleep with him anymore, that it was Harry's job to keep him sexually satisfied. Harry was fairly sure that blow-jobs and hand-jobs was not going to keep his Uncle satisfied for very much longer, especially if Dudley had exaggerated what he had compelled Harry to do earlier. As the many locks on his bedroom door clicked open, Harry's worst fears were confirmed. His Uncle was sporting a large grin, holding a large soldering iron and bearing an even larger erection. He entered Harry's room, shut and locked the door behind him and plugged in the soldering iron. Vernon turned to Harry, malice gleaming in his small piggy eyes.

"Time I took what's mine you little whore. Dudley's told me you tried to rape him in the bathroom, I'm going to bury myself inside you and fuck you so hard you'll be able to taste me!" While talking, Vernon was walking towards the bed that Harry lay on, transfixed with fear. "Undress me, whore!" demanded Vernon.

With shaking hands, Harry undid his Uncle's trousers and slid them down, followed quickly by his underwear. All the time, Harry's mind was aware that he should resist, that it was wrong. But his practical side knew that it would happen with or without his compliance, but that without it would hurt more, and for longer afterwards. So he continued with his actions, freeing his Uncle's enormous penis and starting to rub it the way he knew his Uncle liked.

"Not so fast whore, I've got something I want to do first. Lay down across your bed." As Harry moved to obey, his Uncle produced two lengths of rope and proceeded to tie Harry's hands to the underside of his makeshift bed and his ankles to two of the middle legs. "Now I've got you just where I want you." Vernon began to run his hands up and down Harry's scarred back, lingering on the one smooth area of skin, the base of Harry's spine. "Do you know what they call this bit, when a girl gets a tattoo there? Do you whore? It's called a spunk target and I think you need a special tattoo there."

The soldering iron was now hot; the smell of hot metal pervaded the room. Vernon retrieved the tool and pressed it against that sensitive area of skin, eliciting a howl from Harry.

"Quiet whore, or I'll give you more than one tattoo," growled Vernon, "I'm going to write your name here, so everybody knows what you are."

Harry bit down on a piece of wood jutting from the edge of his bed in an effort to not scream while Vernon wrote on his back with the soldering iron. The smell of charred skin mingled with the odour of the room, making him feel sick. He couldn't help making some noise, each time he did, Vernon would slap the area of newly burnt skin. Finally it was over, and Vernon stood back to admire his handiwork. The word "WHORE" stood out on Harry's back, red and weeping. The sight of it excited Vernon further and unable to wait any longer, he spat in his hand and lathered it up and down his cock.

"I've been waiting for this, I know you want it, you poofter freak," said Vernon, holding his penis at the entrance to Harry arse. Suddenly completely aware that today was the day he would lose his virginity, Harry started to struggle.

"Keep still whore, or I'll make it worse," said Vernon, and then pushed himself inside Harry's arse, all the way in, with one stroke. Harry screamed around the wood still clenched in his teeth as his Uncle proceeded to thrust in and out, grunting all the while.

"You love it, you know you do…take it all…fuck, so tight…should have done this before…" Vernon grabbed both of Harry's hips and began to thrust more rapidly, harder and faster, his balls slapping the base of Harry's cock as he drove in an out of his nephew. "Oh yeah, gonna come!" shouted Vernon and thrust one more time, further than before. Harry could feel his Uncle's penis spasm as he came inside him. His Uncle pulled out and looked at his nephew, tied down, naked and branded. The sight began to excite him again and he took himself in hand, then walked round the other side of the bed and grabbed Harry by the hair.

"Suck me off freak!" he ordered and shoved his hardening penis in Harry's mouth. Harry did the best he could from the awkward position he was restrained in, with his Uncle holding his head up by the hair and thrusting into his mouth in the same rough fashion he had just done to his arse. As he got close to completion for the second time, Vernon pulled out of Harry's mouth and walked back round the bed, masturbated himself looking at his semen leaking from his nephew's arsehole. With a shout Vernon came again, this time he came on the branding at the base of Harry's spine. Harry screamed as the tender burns were covered in hot salty fluid.

"That's why it's called a spunk target, whore," said Vernon, "and you'll keep quiet about what I do to you if you've got any sense. Nobody will believe you anyway."

Harry was hardly aware as his Uncle left the room, taking the soldering iron with him. All he could think about, as the tears streamed down his face was what his friends would think of him now, the Saviour of the Wizarding World, bound and naked, having been just raped by his Uncle. Regardless of the threat from Voldemort, he knew he had to get out of the house before his Uncle did it again.


	3. Harry

_A/N: I do not own Harry Potter, or anything you'd recognise. Don't sue me, I can't afford it.__ This chapter contains non/dub con and child abuse, if you don't like it don't read it. It's a serious crime and not a joke. No flames please, they're not appreciated. Please review and let me know if you want me to continue.  
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Harry was woken from his stupor by his Uncle untying his hands and feet.

"Time to get up and earn your keep freak, get your chores done quickly, I've plans for you later." With that ominous warning ringing in his ears, Harry made use of his toilet bucket and dressed in his usual summer attire: huge t-shirt and jeans that he had rolled up several times and fastened with a length of string, both being cast-offs of Dudley's and therefore vastly too big. Leaving his bedroom, he realised it was morning and hurried with his bucket to the outside manhole to the drains to empty his bucket. That done, his rinsed it with the hose and quickly went back inside to the kitchen to wash his hands and begin cooking the family breakfast.

As he cooked bacon, eggs and toast for his relatives, he could hear his stomach growling and protesting that it had been a long time since he had been fed. With his mouth watering at the smell of the bacon, Harry served breakfast, pouring orange juice for his Aunt, coffee for his Uncle and a chocolate milkshake for his Cousin. While they ate, he started to clean the kitchen, starting with the greasy frying pans and then moving onto the hob and work surfaces. His movements were quick and economical, his experience in performing this task evident. As he finished wiping the last surface clean, he heard the sound of chairs being pushed back and turned to see his family leaving the kitchen to get ready for their day. His Uncle would be going to work, Petunia to a coffee morning and Dudley probably to the park, loitering with his gang and beating up kids younger than them. Harry grabbed the plates and rapidly stuffed two crusts and a bacon rind in his mouth from one of the plates and a piece of egg from another, quickly turning back to the sink with the plates so he wouldn't be caught chewing. Swallowing the half chewed scraps, Harry washed and dried the plates and put them away. Turning back, he came face-to-face with his Aunt holding a long list of chores, his jobs for the day.

"Here," spat Petunia, "get them all done by three and I'll let you have a sandwich before your Uncle gets home from work." With that, she left the kitchen as fast as she could, leaving Harry to read the extensive list of chores, which started with mowing the lawn. As his arms were still healing, most of his outside jobs today were in the back garden, out of the view of the neighbours. Sighing to himself, Harry went to the shed and started on the mowing. By midday, he had mowed the back lawn, pruned the verbena, painted the shed and was starting on trimming the lawn edging. He was hot, thirsty and the brand at the base of his spine was agony in the hot sun, with salty sweat trickling down his back. As he expertly moved up the garden, trimming the edge of the lawn with the edging shears, Harry could see the distinctive ripple in the air by the patio doors that meant a wizard was Disillusioned. He thought that he had imagined the figure out of the corner of his eye that he had seen a week ago; he couldn't imagine why anybody from the Wizarding world would be watching him mow the grass. Shrugging his shoulders, he continued to work; knowing that his Aunt was serious in her threat of withholding food if the tasks he had been given weren't done in time. He risked a quick drink from the hose and took the edging shears back to the shed. Looking around the garden, he was pleased with his achievement, it looked a lot better than when he had started. His marks in Herbology weren't amazing, but he could do enough to keep the garden down and tidy. Brushing grass clippings from his jeans, Harry went inside the house. He walked through the kitchen to the cupboard under the stairs, which had been his bedroom for eleven years, to get the dusters, furniture polish and glass cleaner. For the next two hours he polished and cleaned all the ornaments and the glass shelves they sat on, the mantelpiece above the fireplace and all the exposed woodwork of the three-piece suite in the living room. By half past two, he only had to vacuum clean the hall and living room and to put everything away. He worked feverishly to get everything done on time. At three o'clock on the dot, Harry was waiting on the doormat by the backdoor in the kitchen waiting for his Aunt to finish inspecting his work, knowing better than to help himself to food. Luckily for his stomach, he had managed to complete all the tasks to her satisfaction, and he took his cheese sandwich outside to eat. The Disillusioned wizard had gone, but Harry was still unsure as to whether someone had been there in the first place, or whether it had been the product of hot sun and dehydration. Harry wolfed his sandwich, wishing there was another, and washed it down with a couple of mouthfuls of hose water.

Just as Harry was starting to relax, Petunia stuck her out of the back door and hissed at him. "Get up you lazy freak, and don't sit around in the sun as if you deserve to. Go to your room to wait for your Uncle, he'll be home soon."

Harry dragged his tired aching body up the stairs to his room, thankful that he might be able to have a little rest before whatever his Uncle had planned for him. He sat on his bed, holding his pounding head in his hands and without realising, he dozed off in that position.

He awoke to beer-laced breath on his face and a hand on his crotch. He flinched back from both the breath and the hand, realising his Uncle was drunk.

"Come with me faggot," Vernon slurred, "you're going to earn your keep tonight, I've lined up two customers for you, you'd better satisfy them or I'll have to brand you again. Pet and Dudders are out, so screaming won't help you."

Harry stumbled as his Uncle dragged him out of his room and down the stairs. In the kitchen were two men Harry had never seen before; they were physically very different, but both had a look about them, a sick sort of gleam in the eyes. A gleam he recognised, Harry quickly realised with a cold feeling, the same gleam that he had seen in his Uncle's eyes the night before. His mind all but shut down as he was stripped, bound over the kitchen table and used by both men, one after the other, and then both at the same time. He was vaguely aware that the men had gone, of his Uncle taking his turn again, and then being untied.

"Not bad whore, you earned me £200 this evening. We should do this more often." Said Vernon, then dealt a stinging slap to Harry's sore bottom, "now move, get up to your room, I have to make some phone calls, to get you some more customers." With that he shoved Harry out of the kitchen and left him to stumble up the stairs. He knew who he wanted to be his nephew's next customer. He'd met the man only recently, but Vernon was sure the man liked boys from their brief conversations. He took out the cheap mobile phone he had bought that day for this express purpose, to organise customers for the boy-whore, and dialled the phone number the man had given him.


	4. Severus

_A/N: I do not own Harry __Potter or anything you'd recognise. Don't sue me, I can't afford it. This chapter contains graphic non/dub con and child abuse, if you don't like it don't read it. It's a serious crime and not a joke. No flames please, they're not appreciated. Please review and let me know if you want me to continue._

Severus Snape, Potions Master at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry stalked through the halls of the school. Summer was his favourite time of year, mainly because the school was child-free and he could devote his time to research. This summer's research had suffered some interruptions though; the Headmaster had insisted that various individuals spend some of their precious time watching The-Brat-Who-Lived-To-Be-A-Pain on a rota basis. The reason for this was the escape from Azkaban of the notorious Death Eater and murderer, Sirius Black, and it was felt that Harry Potter's life was in danger. If the brat was so important, Severus wondered why the he had not been brought to Hogwarts already, or even to the Weasley home, although goodness knew Molly Weasley had enough mouths to feed without dumping another on her. Severus had spent a boring afternoon watching Potter make himself useful for once, mowing the lawn and generally tidying up the garden. His average marks in Herbology showed, Severus knew that several of the bushes had not been trimmed perfectly and if it had been his garden, the Brat would have been back outside to do it again. As it was, he had gone in the house and probably lazed around for the rest of the day, Severus had left at half past two when his replacement; a smelly, disreputable wizard named Mundungus Fletcher had arrived; and the brat had not come back outside by then. As Severus swept up the staircase to the Headmaster's office, his mind turned to the research project currently in stasis in his lab. He was trying to improve upon the Polyjuice Potion, which allowed a witch or wizard to take on another's appearance for one hour. His research had indicated that it was possible to extend that time limit, but so far all he had achieved was 2 cauldrons of brown goo that refused to clean off and a scorch mark on the ceiling. "Potter Watching" as he had dubbed it, was interfering with his research and thought processes. He knocked on the door to the Headmaster's Office and entered when he heard a friendly, "come in Severus!" from the other side of the door. Grumbling about excessively cheerful Headmasters, he opened the door and swept up to the desk of Albus Dumbledore, the greatest wizard alive. Said wizard was currently crunching his way through a new bag of lemon drops with a look of extreme satisfaction on his face.

"Severus my boy! How are you?" asked Dumbledore, indicating that the Potions Master could sit, whilst knowing full well that he wouldn't.

"I would be better if my research wasn't continually interrupted by the need to go and watch Potter mow the grass or prune garden plants Headmaster. Is my presence really necessary? I'm sure there are lots of people who would actually _enjoy_ watching the brat." Severus spat, ignoring both the hurt look on Dumbledore's face and the indicated chair. "I do not see why he needs watching in the first place, if there is as much danger to him as you say, could he not be brought here, to Hogwarts?"

"My dear Severus, the boy must stay within the boundaries of the blood wards to be safe, you know that as well as I. However they do not protect him if he leaves the house to go to the shops, or out with friends, or if he and his family go out for dinner," replied Dumbledore. "I'm sure you have things to do this summer apart from hide away in your lab, I doubt Mr Potter is making that much of an impact on your schedule."

"You mean my continual healing of all those children you insist on sending back to their abusive homes every summer?" sneered Severus.

"All families have their troubles, Severus. I'm sure things are not as bad as the children seem to think. They always come back to Hogwarts hale and healthy do they not?"

Severus huffed in annoyance but knew from experience that he would not win this argument. "If that is all Headmaster, I'd like to get back to my lab and continue my work."

"Of course, of course, I shall see you at dinner?" The question was more of a statement, prompting a sigh from the Potions Master.

"Yes, Headmaster, I will be at dinner."

Before the Headmaster could start any small talk, Severus swept out the office, his robes billowing behind him. He had to get some work done for this summer to be profitable at all.

Many hours later, a hot and frustrated Potions Master was no nearer a solution to extending the one hour limit of Polyjuice Potion and was trying to clean the latest batch of brown goo from his lab so that he could go up to dinner in the Great Hall. Giving up on the task, he banished the ruined cauldron to the Potions classroom, smirking to himself as he wondered which student would end up serving detention trying to clean it.

As he left the lab to go to his quarters to change for dinner, a house elf appeared in front of him with a pop.

"Tilly is having a letter for Mister Potions Master sir!" squeaked the creature, holding out a rumpled looking letter.

"Thank you Tilly," said Severus with a sigh as the elf beamed with pleasure at being thanked and popped away. Living in the dungeons had its advantages, but the biggest drawback had to be that owl post had to be delivered from the Owlery by the elves as there were no windows in the dungeons.

Ripping open the letter, he struggled to read the short missive, its contents soon explaining why. He skipped to the end of the letter, noting the name as one of his abused Slytherins.

"_Dear Professor Snape,_

_I told my father that I didn't want to join the Death Eaters and he has broken my arms and held me under the Cruciatus for a long time. I am staying with Draco Malfoy, but ask please if you have any potions you could send to ease the tremors. Lord Malfoy has healed my broken bones._

_Marcus Flint_

Cursing the timing of Marcus' declaration against the Dark Lord, Severus rushed through his rooms to the stock of healing potions he kept stocked for the seventeen children he knew of in abusive homes. Marcus would be old enough for an apprenticeship next summer, if he could get survive until September, he need not go back to his violent father again. Severus packed a box with two generic healing potions, a specific nerve pain potion of his own development for post-Cruciatus symptoms and a bone mending potion. He had understood Marcus' cryptic mention of Lucius healing his arms. Lucius had provided him with the potion and Marcus would have to replace it or be in the elder Malfoy's debt.

"Tilly!" he shouted.

"Tilly is here to serve Mister Potions Master sir!" The elf was practically bouncing with delight at being called to serve.

"Take this box to Malfoy Manor, it is for Marcus Flint. Do not give it to any other person, do you understand?"

"Yes sir!" squeaked the elf, and disappeared.

Pinching the bridge of his nose, Severus sighed. Albus had never believed him when he had said about the Slytherins suffering at home. The look in his eyes and the tone of his voice had told Severus that he expected it from the house that had produced the dark lord and more dark witches and wizards than any other, and why should Severus expect any different? From that day Severus had kept a careful eye out and had spotted several more children that he considered "at risk". The warning signs were there to see, if you knew what to look for. Or could be bothered to look for, he scowled to himself. There were those that flinched, they struggled to remember that not every hand meant pain. There were those who used distraction, be it sex, alcohol or drugs. Severus knew more about Muggle drugs than he cared to after his years working to relieve those children of their addictions. Finally there were those that usually got missed, those whose eyes told of horror beyond what any child should witness. Their eyes were dead looking, glazed and far away. Those children often ended up as what Albus insisted on calling "tragic accidents". Severus still could not see how anyone could justify telling themselves that. Of the three "accidents" that Severus knew about, one child had waited until the Hogwarts Freight Train was pulling into the station and calmly lay down on the tracks in front of it. Another had transfigured their quill into a blade and cut their own throat. The third was only four years ago, and may have been accidental, but it was doubtful; if the child had not meant to jump from the Astronomy Tower, then why the note pinned to their chest detailing their reason for doing so?

Severus was expecting seven bruised Slytherins, four Gryffindors, four Ravenclaws and two Hufflepuffs to visit him after the Welcoming Feast in September. He had gained their trust mainly by providing healing potions and not asking questions. Gradually, they started to come to him instead of being kept behind in class. He would talk to them, heal them and, for the older ones at least, try to work out ways in which to legitimately prevent them from having to return home once the school year had ended. It was hard work, that none of rest of the Hogwarts faculty was even aware was _necessary_, let alone that it was he that was doing it. Unfortunately, he was also expecting one Slytherin who would undoubtedly have been given Muggle drugs to keep him docile and tractable. The first few weeks of term would be difficult for both of them.

All in all, Severus felt he had enough to worry about without Dumbledore sending him to watch the Boy-Who-Lived-To-Be-Pampered.


	5. Tristan

_A/N:__ I'm overwhelmed by the support you've given me, the reviews, story alerts and fav story alerts. I do not own Harry Potter, or anything you'd recognise. Don't sue me, I can't afford it. This chapter contains language, graphic non/dub con and child abuse, if you don't like it don't read it. It's a serious crime and not a joke. No flames please, they're not appreciated. Please review and let me know if you want me to continue._

The next six weeks were a nightmare for Harry. As September 1st approached, he was starting to wonder if he would even be able to go back to Hogwarts. His Uncle had made contact with a man who organised "parties" for older men. These "parties" were three or four nights a week, never in the same house twice. Harry would be driven to each party by his Uncle and would join up to 15 other boys, who would serve the men drinks and cigars, and take their turns being repeatedly raped. They would be naked except for a bow tie – to make them look more like waiters. Often, Harry's Uncle would get so excited watching his nephew being passed about like a lump of meat that he would grab the nearest boy, unable to wait until Harry was passed back his way. He had stopped beating Harry, these men liked their boys smooth and unmarked, but every boy at the gatherings went home with hand-shaped bruises on their hips and arms from their rough handling.

Harry meandered through his days of chores in something of a daze, nothing felt real. He would watch the clouds while working in the garden, his hands on autopilot while his mind wandered, watching the ragged puffs of cotton wool drift through the sky. He would reflect on what he had become, justifying in his own mind what was happening to him and why. Obviously he deserved it; he wasn't wanted in his relative's house and must pay his way. His participation at the parties paid for his food and board, his clothes and toiletries. His Uncle's use of his body was his Uncle's way of showing his love, despite Harry's shortcomings. It was his duty to submit sexually because his Aunt would not. The burn on his back was almost healed; the new one on his chest had finally scabbed over so was starting to heal. He only had his Uncle's word that the burn on his back read "whore" but he could read the one on his front. "Freak" was what it said, and Harry supposed that in truth that word was accurate as well. After all none of the other boys he had met were Wizards, it must just be him who was treated like this. With nobody to talk to and with Hedwig staying with Ron, Harry felt incredibly lonely.

As he polished the tiny ornaments in the living room, Harry remembered that there was another party this evening. An hour later his Uncle let him have a shower and then bundled him into the car, blindfolded him, and drove him somewhere. He never knew where he was, another way to guarantee privacy for these gatherings. When they reached their destination, he was led into the house, stripped and his blindfold removed. The house was different, but the view was the same. The room Harry was in was a side room next to the living room, where he could already hear the men talking and laughing. In the room with Harry were a dozen other boys, most of them younger than he, but all wearing the same defeated look that he recognised from his own reflection in the mirror. Turning around to see all the boys, to see if there were any he had seen before, he paused in front of a thin, wiry-looking boy slightly taller than him. Harry was sure that he recognised him from somewhere but couldn't be sure where. Most likely it was from another gathering such as this. That thought was erased as soon as the boy spoke.

"Harry? Harry Potter? Oh my God, Harry what are you doing here?"

Feeling his face flush in shame, Harry struggled to reply. "Who are you? I recognise your face but I can't remember why."

"I'm Tristan. Tristan Rawn, 4th Year Hufflepuff. You probably don't know me but…"

"But you recognise me obviously," replied Harry bitterly, cutting Tristan off in mid-sentence. "Who wouldn't recognise me from our school?"

"Yeah, I suppose," said Tristan uneasily. "This is the first time my father has brought me to one of the parties, it can't be too bad can it, with so many people here, they can't touch you can they? I mean, err, can they?"

Tristan was rambling in his nervousness, and for a moment Harry felt sorry for him. He had no idea what to expect obviously and it would come as a shock. He would probably try to fight back, which was _not_ a good idea.

"It's worse than you can imagine, they will touch you, grope you, humiliate you and force themselves on you. _Do not fight back_. It's only more painful if you do. You only hope is to do exactly what they want, when they want, even when they tell you to beg them to fuck you," said Harry quickly. He could hear the talk dying down in the next room, meaning the boys would be expected soon. "Quick put your tie on and grab a tray of drinks. That way one of the others will be first and you'll know what to expect." With that Harry grabbed a box of cigars and a cigar cutter and tray of drinks. "Here," he said, thrusting the tray into Tristan's hands. "Don't drop it…when you bend over to pick it up…" He left the end of the sentence with an ominous frown and watched Tristan's face pale with horror and heard the glasses start to tinkle as his hands shook.

The door opened and the boys proceeded into the room. The men were all wearing silky smoking jackets and nothing else, arranged around the room in armchairs, on the sofas and perched on bar-type stools. Their eyes watched the boys walk around the room. Harry closed his mind to what was about to happen and concentrated on trying to divert the men's attention from Tristan. "New meat" as they called boys who had not been to a party before were always targeted at their first gathering.

At the end of the evening, Harry helped Tristan back into the room they had met in and helped him to dress. Tristan had bruises on his hips and thighs, crescent shaped fingernail marks on his arms and buttocks and was incredibly sore, his gait was that of a drunken sailor – swaying and staggering as if a ship rolled beneath him.

"It's never been like this," muttered Tristan as Harry helped him into his trousers. "It was only ever my father, not…_this_," he said, struggling to find the words for the horror he and the other boys had endured that evening. "I usually get help when I go back to school from S…a teacher, who heals me. He must be able to help us, this isn't right."

Harry was hardly listening, already the evening's events were being pushed to the back of his mind, a dream, a nightmare perhaps, anything to make it less real.

"Ok, whatever, but I have to go," whispered Harry as his Uncle pounded on the door.

"Freak, get out here now…I've not had you this evening, and I want to get home!" yelled Vernon.

Harry left Tristan to finish getting dressed and left the house with his Uncle, expecting what would come next. Sure enough, after twenty minutes in the car, his Uncle stopped the car and ripped off his blindfold. His erection was straining at the front of his trousers.

"I can't wait until I get you home, get out of the car," he hissed.

Harry complied and stood dumbly by the passenger door as his Uncle levered his bulk out from behind the wheel and walked round to him. He dragged Harry to the front of the car and bent him over the bonnet. Ripping off the oversized jeans, he thrust inside Harry's sore and brutalised arse and pounded against him roughly, grunting and sweating. Harry lay against the warm bonnet of the car, listening to the sounds of his Uncle's pleasure, waiting for it to be over. When his Uncle came, Harry flinched as Vernon grabbed his testicles, squeezing them hard. The pain washed over Harry and Vernon cried out in delight as his nephew's tight walls clenched around him, milking the last of his semen from him.

When Harry got home, Vernon pushed him into his bedroom and locked the door. Harry lay down on his bed and, for the first time since his Uncle had first raped him six weeks ago, cried. They were tears of shame, now that someone who went to Hogwarts now knew what had been happening to him this summer. Eventually he cried himself to sleep.

At Hogwarts, Severus Snape was awoken by a house elf bearing a letter. Groaning, he rolled from his bed, knowing better than to ignore the message. The elves knew better than to bring ordinary post at this late hour, but they had standing orders to deliver immediately any messages from any of the seventeen abused children he knew of.

Snatching the letter from the nervous elf, he unrolled the parchment and read the missive.

"_Dear Professor Snape,_

_Things have got worse, my father took me to a gathering of men who think like him…"_

"Man should be castrated with a fork and spoon," growled Severus.

"…_and they repeatedly gang-raped a group of 13 boys including me. There was another Hogwarts student there, one I don't think you know of…Help us please._

_Tristan Rawn._

Eyes wide in shock, Severus realised that he had been given an opportunity to break a child prostitution and pornography ring. He knew that the boys probably didn't realise that such meetings were usually filmed for the enjoyment of others, and the films traded on the black market.

He quickly penned a response, making his letter sound like Tristan had been enrolled in remedial classes that would take place before the start of the year. He knew that Tristan's father would believe his son was failing at school, his opinion so low of his only child that he would believe anything bad about him. Tristan would understand what he was doing. By collecting Tristan in the morning for his "Remedial Classes" he could get details of what Tristan had seen to imprison the men who had abused him. And get to the other child who was a Wizard, before the Muggle authorities did.

At breakfast the following morning, Severus received another letter from Tristan.

"_Understood. Have arranged for the other boy to be here too…T"_

Severus ate quickly, listening to Dumbledore wax lyrical about the Potter brat, that his watchers had reported him going to numerous parties and being driven everywhere by his Uncle. This only confirmed in Severus' mind that the boy was as spoilt by his family as his father before him. He vaguely heard that the brat was visiting friends this morning before dismissing the information as irrelevant, turning his mind to more important things, such as the potions he would have to take with him to heal Tristan and his friend, and precautions he may have to take to remove pair from the custody of their sick, perverted guardians.

After packing his black leather bag with a variety of potions he knew he would need, and a selection of those he hoped he would never have to need, Severus strode to the gates of Hogwarts, taking no time to relish the warmth of the sun and the birdsong around him. Upon reaching the gates, he thought hard about Tristan's address and the area the boy had described to him previously as a safe Apparation point in case of this kind of emergency; turned on the spot and disappeared with a small _pop_.

Appearing in a pleasant leafy suburb of London, Severus quickly looked around and transfigured his robes into something less remarkable – black jeans and a black shirt, still with the multitude of buttons that his frock coat had. Walking quickly to the house he knew to be Tristan's, Severus stalked up the path and knocked on the door. It was opened by a frightened Tristan, who had a large, puffy bruise on his face, and a black eye to go with it. He was wearing nothing but a pair of boxers. He ushered his professor in the house hurriedly shut the door behind him.

"I'm so glad you've come, thank you sir, oh god thank you," sobbed Tristan, his eyes filling with tears, which then flowed down his face unchecked. "I fooled his guardian into bringing him here, pretending to be my father, oh sir, you have to help him please..." Tristan lapsed into incomprehensible gabbling, tripping over his words as he sobbed.

Severus managed to understand in between hiccups and sobs, that somehow, Tristan had found a telephone number for his friend, and with Slytherin cunning, fooled both his father into leaving the house, and this other boy's guardian into bringing him to Tristan's house under the pretext that Tristan's father wanted time with the two boys together and would pay handsomely for the pleasure.

"Where is he?" Severus interrupted. "You both need healing and we must be away from here as soon as is feasible. You are in no state for Side-Along-Apparation, and therefore I doubt he is either."

Tristan led Severus into the living room, where a small, skinny boy also dressed only in his underwear, with a horrible burn on his back spelling the word "whore" stood staring into the large mirror. Raising his eyes from the marks on the boy's back and thighs, Severus looked at the boy's face in the mirror.

Severus' dark eyes met the horrified green eyes of Harry Potter.


	6. Dumbledore

_A/N: I've been overwhelmed by the response to this story…thank you all for all your support and reviews. Somebody asked when this story was set – it was only mentioned once in the first chapter, but it is set in the summer before 3__rd__ year. Mentions of child abuse, non/dub con, and language._

Severus glanced worriedly at the small boy currently perched on the edge of an Infirmary bed, seemingly in deep contemplation of the pattern of swirls on the floor. He had managed to maintain his stoic façade in front of the two injured, traumatised boys long enough to heal the worst of their injuries with potions and spells before apparating them to the gates of Hogwarts. The walk to the Infirmary had been a long one, not helped by the injuries still present on both boys and his own need to hide their presence in the castle long enough to work out exactly what he was going to do next.

Tristan was used to his ministrations, allowing the Potions Master to dose him with potions from the Infirmary stores and to heal cuts and bruises with salves and murmured spells. All with no questions asked, other than a raised eyebrow indicating that Tristan would be welcome to meet in Severus' office to discuss things if the need arose. He had been packed off to the Hufflepuff Sett with a single dose of Dreamless Sleep potion.

Potter however, was going to be somewhat more difficult to deal with; mainly because it was the first time of doing so, but also due to the antagonistic nature of all their previous interactions.

"Drink this Mr Potter…an anti-viral potion," he elaborated, seeing the question form in the boy's eyes. "To prevent you contracting any Muggle venereal infections."

For the first time in months, Harry had to suppress a snort of laughter. How did pure-blooded Snape know about STD's? The sight of both of Snape's eyebrows disappearing nearly into his hairline told Harry that he had voiced his question aloud. He shrank down, curling in on himself to minimise the target.

"For your information Potter, I am half-blood and very well versed in the Muggle world, including Muggle sexually transmitted infections. Not that it is any of your business."

Not daring to question Snape any further, intentionally or otherwise, Harry uncurled his back a little and grasped the proffered potion and swallowed it without further ado. He did the same with the next two as well, which worried the normally confident Potions Master, who had been expecting resistance – he knew how horrible those three potions tasted. His expectations were confirmed however when he tried to heal the boys back. Potter refused to turn over, refusing to allow Snape to get him in such a vulnerable position. Eventually, Snape admitted defeat and gave him the pot of salve and informed him that it could be applied privately. A small non-committal nod was the only reply. The boy was a passive zombie, allowing his limbs to be moved this way and that so they could be healed. He had the glazed look of a porcelain doll, a look that Severus realised he had seen before, the look he had seen on another child's face before one of those "tragic accidents" that the Headmaster insisted on calling them. The last time he had seen a spark of life in those eyes was the look of abject horror when he and the boy had stared at each other in the mirror. He needed to make sure that the boy was healed in time for the new term, or the rumours would start; that meant he had four days. An impossible task, but one he would attempt regardless. With a quiet word to Pomona Sprout, Tristan would be fine for a few days in his Sett, safe in the knowledge that Severus would be in his office if required. Potter on the other hand was going to require more than space and a good meal. With a sigh, he decided he may as well get started.

"Stand up Potter; you are to come with me." The boy stood, wobbling a little at first. Harry wondered where he was to go; his Uncle would surely beat him for not fulfilling his part of the exchange with Tristan's father, would Snape be any better? He followed as Snape strode along the corridors of Hogwarts; trying to keep up as Snape was taking every obscure passageway he could to avoid other teachers. He reached the portrait to his quarters, an aristocratic looking man with a rather impressive beard, sat on a chaise longue, stroking a large black panther. A quiet conversation ensued, and then Harry followed Snape through the portrait. If Harry had been looking at anything other than his feet, he would have seen that Snape's quarters were not decorated in the dreary black with chains that many students joked they would be. Instead the walls of the informal sitting room were a cream colour with splashes of bright colours from various tapestries. The carpet was a warm russet and gloriously thick and woolly. Snape hung his outer robe up on a peg by the portrait door and gestured Harry to follow him through to the kitchen.

"Are you hungry Potter?" he asked, knowing the boy would say no.

"No, Sir," said Harry quietly. That was an easy one; he could answer that without thinking.

"Very well. Sit down Potter."

Harry sat immediately. Almost. Severus watched with incredulity as the thin boy in his kitchen arranged himself in an uncomfortable-looking position kneeling on the floor, with his arms behind his back resting on his heels.

"What are you doing Potter? Can you not sit at a table like the rest of us?" queried Severus, more out of confusion than anything else. He was not prepared for the boy's response.

"No Sir. I must not contaminate normal people's space or belongings. I do not sit at the table my place is beneath it. I do not matter. I am a waste of oxygen, time and money. I am a freak and deserve nothing more."

While Severus was still trying to formulate a response to what the boy had said, he heard the chimes signalling a visitor to his portrait.

"Stay here and do not move. Do not make a sound." With that, Severus strode from the kitchen and towards the portrait door, a sigh escaping him as he read the scroll by the door.

"Good Morning Headmaster," he said, opening the door to the twinkling eyes of Albus Dumbledore. "How can I help you? I am a little busy."

"I imagine you are dear boy, I imagine you are." Without asking, Dumbledore swept in past the annoyed Potions Master. "Why is Mr Potter not with his Aunt and Uncle? Why do I have reason to believe he is at Hogwarts, having been removed from his family against his will?"

"Against his will?" spluttered Severus, "he was all but catatonic following the most horrendous instance of child gang rape I have ever had the misfortune to know of. He is scarred, emotionally, physically and mentally. I have healed him, nothing more. I have done more than his perverted paedophile of an Uncle has _ever_ done for him." Severus was panting for breath after his outburst.

"Are you finished? You are over-reacting Severus, I doubt that Mr Potter is really in that much of a bad way. Where is he?" asked the Headmaster, expecting to see Harry peering round a door frame to listen to their conversation.

Severus sighed and slumped in defeat. "In the kitchen Headmaster. See for yourself, I asked him to sit at the table and I doubt he has moved from where he sat himself down."

Frowning at Severus' phrasing, Dumbledore walked into the kitchen and nearly tripped over Harry, still kneeling on the floor.

"Harry, my boy! How are you?" asked Dumbledore brightly, frowning with confusion when the boy didn't answer. "I'm sorry that Professor Snape has dragged you away from your family early, but as there are only four days left until the start of term I think we can let it slide this once. I'm sure that you do will not want to stay here with Professor Snape, so I will arrange for your things to be transported to Gryffindor Tower. Where is your trunk Harry?"

Harry heard his voice answer, "I don't know Sir," while his mind turned over and over what Dumbledore had said. _I'm sorry that Professor Snape has dragged you away from your family early… I'm sorry that Professor Snape has dragged you away from your family early… I'm sorry that Professor Snape has dragged you away from your family early…"_ Dumbledore must have known what had been happening. He must have known everything. He hadn't stopped it; he must agree that the discipline Uncle Vernon used was correct. Harry's head dropped to his chest as tears ran down his face. His Uncle had been right: nobody cared; he was ugly and vile and deserved to be beaten. If he wasn't, Dumbledore would have stopped it. Harry hadn't noticed the Headmaster leave the room.

Severus had heard Harry's response the Headmaster's query regarding his belongings. With a start, he realised that he had given no thought to Potter's trunk or familiar. Bracing himself for the Headmaster's rebuke, he was unprepared for the depth of the disappointment in Dumbledore's eyes.

"Must you really make him kneel on the floor Severus? Do you really believe Lilly's child deserves that? I do not understand your attitude to the boy, yesterday you were convinced he was spoiled, something I know not to be true, today you are convinced he has been miss-treated in some way. Which is it Severus?" Dumbledore sighed. "Get Harry's belongings to Hogwarts and install him in the Gryffindor Tower for the next few days." With that, he swept away, closing the portrait quietly behind him.

Severus retreated to the bathroom to retrieve a headache potion before trying to talk to the boy still kneeling on the kitchen floor, desperately trying to repress the sobs trying to escape his control. An unswervingly obedient Potter was something he was unused to, and Severus knew he would have to tread carefully. He knew he had been wrong about the boy's upbringing and attitude, but Potter was likely to distrust him, if there was any scope for emotion left in the broken boy kneeling by his kitchen table.

"Potter, where is your trunk? Your school things and your owl?" asked Severus, only half-expecting a reply.

"Hedwig is with Ron. I don't know where my trunk is, but I kept my wand under a loose floorboard in my bedroom," murmured the distraught boy.

"Get up Potter, I will retrieve your things, but I want you to take a shower and get some sleep. I will ask the house elves to make up my spare room for you. Come, I will show you the bathroom"

Harry followed Professor Snape through the living room and through a door he had not noticed on his way in. He stopped on the threshold, marvelling at the huge marbled bathroom. It was a palatial room, with a deep bath tub taking up one corner, a walk in shower in the other, with water jets at many levels on every side; all appointed in a beautiful dark blue marble. Snape crossed to a small door and pulled out several large white fluffy towels and placed them on the heated towel rail, before turning back to the boy still standing in the doorway. "These are for you to use, have a shower or a bath, whichever suits. I will see to your room." With that, Snape swept out of the bathroom, leaving Harry to gaze in wonder at the most luxurious room he had ever seen in his life. A niggling voice at the back of his mind told him that if there ever was a bathroom that he would contaminate with his presence, it was this one. As for the towels, that must be a test. Nobody had towels like that; they were softer than the thick duvet on Dudley's bed! Harry resolved not to use them, but to wait until he was dry before putting his clothes back on. Looking around, his dirty jeans, over-sized underwear and horrible knobbly socks had all disappeared, along with the ratty trainers held together with string. For a moment he panicked – what was he supposed to wear? Then, it came to him…Professor Snape would not allow him clothes until he had earned them. Clothes had to be earned, as did food. His next though nearly took his breath away – what would he have to do to earn his time in this beautiful bathroom? He resolved to spend as little time in the shower as possible.

The shower was wonderful, soothing on his skin, easing the aches away. When he was clean, he left the warm water to find that a pair of black tracksuit-type trousers and a matching t-shirt had been left on the towel rail. Once he was dry, he donned the clothing uneasily. How was he going to pay for this? At least he had money in the Wizarding World, maybe Snape would accept Galleons instead of…_other things_.

He left the bathroom to find Snape pacing in the living room looking agitated.

"I'm sorry sir; I didn't mean to take so long." Harry apologised, thinking he was the reason for the Potions Master's agitation.

"What? Nonsense Potter! I hadn't expected you to be finished so soon actually. The elves should have finished with the guestroom by now; I have no intention of letting you spend the next four days by yourself in Gryffindor tower after what's happened." With that, Professor Snape gestured to the door to his right and waited expectantly for Harry to enter the room. With a sense on trepidation, Harry opened the door unsure as to what to expect. His eyes were met with the sight of a huge four-poster bed with canopy and curtains, walls painted the same warm cream as the living room and the thick woolly carpet was the same dark blue as the marble in the bathroom. He moved into the room slowly, looking around him with each step, marvelling at the richness of the room.

"I have left you a drink on the bedside table, I expect you to drink it and try to relax Potter," said Snape from the doorway, making Harry jump.

"Yes, Sir," said Harry when his heart-rate had returned to something approaching normal, privately wondering how he was supposed to relax in a bedroom such as this. It took him at least a fortnight to get used to the idea of a full nights sleep when he returned to Hogwarts each year. He sat on the edge of the large bed when he heard Snape close the door quietly, listening for the familiar turning of locks that followed doors closing all summer, and not hearing it. With a sigh of relief, he grabbed the glass of pumpkin juice from the nightstand and drank it quickly, relishing the taste after a whole summer of drinking hose water. His last thought was that Snape had drugged him, because he couldn't keep his eyes open. Giving up the struggle, he lay back on the bed and was asleep in seconds.

Severus opened the door, hoping the boy had drunk the Calming Draught laced juice and that they could have their first of many difficult conversations. The sight that greeted him however, was of the boy passed out across the bed. Pinching the bridge of his nose, he realised that the boy must be more exhausted than he let show, and that a simple Calming Draught had relaxed him enough that his body had made its needs known and thrown him into the arms of Morpheus. With a sigh, he left the boy to his sleep and called a house elf.

"Tiggy is here to serve Master Potions Master Sir!" squeaked the elf.

"I am going out for an hour or so and I want to you alert me if Mr Potter wakes up."

"Yes, Master Potions Master Sir!" said the elf and crept into the bedroom quietly and settled down to wait.

Not bothering to transfigure his robes, Severus left his quarters and made his way to the Apparation point outside the gates of the school. He turned on the spot and disappeared with a _pop_.

He appeared in Privet Drive, in an alley the residents used for their bins. Striding to the front door of number four, he opened it and entered the house. Although he knew what Potter had endured the previous night, he still found it hard to accept when he realised that not one of the pictures in the house were of him. All the pictures were of a large blonde boy, presumably Potter's Cousin. He made his way upstairs, looking in all the rooms. There was a luxuriously appointed bedroom with floral designs – a spare room obviously. There was a master bedroom, and next to it, a room full of toys, some of which were broken, some which evidently had never been used. At the end of the landing, there was a door with multiple locks and a cat-flap installed near the bottom. With a sinking feeling, Severus knew that this was Potter's bedroom. He opened the door and was greeted with the smell of old blood and stale sex. Gagging slightly, he moved the rickety bed and found the loose floorboard Potter had mentioned. He retrieved the boy's wand, cloak and photograph album, before re-tracing his steps downstairs to see if he could find the boy's trunk. With a huff of frustration, he drew his wand.

"Point Me Potter's trunk." His wand quivered in his hand and then spun towards the cupboard under the stairs. With a question in his mind as to why Potter's things would be there, he unlocked the door and peered inside. In the dim light, he could see a trunk and an owl cage, but what caught his eye were the pictures stuck to the walls with small pieces of blu-tack. The pictures were childish, something a five year old would draw, and in the middle was a sign that proudly proclaimed "Hary's Room". Severus grabbed the trunk and cage and backed out of the cupboard as fast as his awkward posture would allow. These people had kept their nephew in a cupboard! He put the items he had retrieved from the boy's bedroom into the trunk along with the owl cage. Turning to leave, he came face-to-face with the large boy he recognised from the photographs adorning the walls.

"Who're you then?" asked the boy.

"I am a professor from your cousin's school and I have come to get his belongings."

"You mean he's gone then? Huh, I was looking for him, my sac's getting heavy and he did such a good job last time," Dudley said, grabbing his crotch suggestively. "When's he coming back then?"

"Mr Potter will never return to this house if I have anything to say about it! I swear on my magic and my wand that I will house him and keep him safe!" shouted Severus, gold sparks flying from his wand.

Dudley suddenly realised that the man in front of him was _one of them_ and backed away, clutching his bottom, the memory of the pig's tail forefront in his mind.

Severus sneered at him and swept from the house, turning on the spot and arriving at Hogwarts. He had a lot more work to do than he had anticipated, Potter was not the victim of a one-off incident of abuse, at the very least he had been neglected for most of his childhood. As he walked up the driveway to the school he recalled the sparks flying from his wand. Thinking on what he had said at the time, he realise that he had inadvertently made a Wizard's Oath without a bonder. Such things were rare, but not unheard of. Harry Potter was now his responsibility, whether he liked it or not.

It wasn't until Severus lay down to sleep that night that he realised that Dumbledore had denied that Potter was spoiled, but never denied that he had been abused. The faith that he had held in Albus Dumbledore, which he had held as unshakable, crumbled and fell. The Potions Master got very little sleep that night.


	7. Tiggy

_A/N: I know I'm a little late with this, R/L has got in the way…I'm away for a week or so__, so my next update after this won't be for a couple of weeks…Obviously if I get any writing done while I'm away you'll be the first to know!_

_Standard thing, I own nothing, make nothing etc etc, mentions of child abuse, neglect._

When Harry awoke the following morning, he wasn't sure where he was. The bed was too soft to be the rickety item he had put together at the Dursleys. It was more like a cloud with sheets. Looking round the room, he remembered that he was with Professor Snape at Hogwarts. Creeping out of bed, Harry looked around for his clothes, and spotted his trunk at the end of the bed. Darting towards it, he wondered if Snape had looked inside. He opened the lid and gasped in wonder. All the horrible oversized rags the Dursleys had made him wear were gone, replaced with jeans that would fit him and t-shirts in a variety of colours. There were also two pairs of tracksuit trousers and sweaters to match. Under the clothes were his Hogwarts books, his cloak, wand, and photograph album. With tears in his eyes, Harry smiled for the first time in months. Whatever happened, he still had his most prized possessions. He dressed quickly and stopped to listen at the door to the living room. Through the door, he could hear raised voices. Although he knew that listening at doors was wrong, it had saved him from many a beating in the past and it was a habit hard to break. Pressing his ear to the wood, he managed to pick up a few words of what was being said.

"…Cannot do this Severus, he is…"

"Damn it old man, have I not explained…have to…Oath…"

"…Must have a Bonder…unheard of…"

The voices grew clearer, as if the speakers were getting closer.

"Not true and you know it! I have researched this through the night and it is not only possible but a stronger Oath than one with a Bonder. He is _my_ responsibility and nothing you can do will change that."

Realising they were talking about him, Harry opened the door to find Professor Snape and Headmaster Dumbledore toe-to-toe in the living room, both very red-faced and breathing hard. The argument had evidently been going on far longer than he had heard. Both men turned to look at the boy standing in the doorway. Dumbledore's gaze was cold and assessing, Snape's was more one of concern. Dumbledore turned back to Professor Snape.

"I thought you said his clothes were rags Severus? He looks like he is dressed in new clothes in the latest Muggle fashions to me!"

"That is because I bought them yesterday, you meddlesome fool! His relatives provided him with cast-off from his whale sized Cousin! What about all the money you give them every month to feed and clothe him? Where is that going? And where is it coming from? Your vault? The school?" Severus paused as an idea dawned on him. "You're paying them out of the minor Potter Vault aren't you? So the boy has been effectively paying for his abusive treatment? No wonder they treated him so badly! As soon as they realised nobody was watching him and that the money kept coming, they knew they could do what they liked and still get paid! You…you…Merlin's beard, words fail me old man. How can you do that to a child?"

"We _need_ him Severus! Better that, than he grew up spoiled and therefore useless…" Dumbledore went white when he realised what he had admitted.

Harry, still watching the exchange from the bedroom doorway had been watching Dumbledore while Professor Snape had been shouting. First the surprise when Snape said that _he_ had bought the wonderfully fitting clothes Harry was wearing; a surprise that Harry was sure was mirrored on his own face, along with a secret worry of how he would have to earn them. That thought was brushed aside, however when Snape mentioned that the Dursleys had been _paid_ to have him. That explained all the presents Dudley got, the new trainers and games, and the number of foreign holidays they took each year, leaving Harry locked in his room with a week's food, a large bucket of water and a larger bucket for waste. Dumbledore looked more than a little uncomfortable when Snape accused him of using a Potter Vault to pay the Dursleys…did this mean that the money in the Vault he knew about wasn't the only one? Either way, Harry knew Professor Snape had guessed right, he had grown up reading body language as a survival mechanism and Dumbledore displayed all the signs of somebody caught in the act, but not being the slightest bit sorry about it.

A noise that had been growing steadily louder while the professors argued was now loud enough to stop them in their tracks, wondering what it was. Looking around, they could see everything in the room not fixed down was vibrating, and the vibrations were getting harder and faster. Searching for a cause, both pairs of eyes came to rest on the small teenager still standing in the doorway.

Harry was angry. _Very_ angry. The man he had trusted was the cause of his treatment by his relatives, he had known how bad it was, yet still sent him back the because he was supposed to be "useful" instead of spoiled. Harry had never been this angry. Glaring at the Headmaster, he took a step into the room and spoke quietly.

"You knew. You always knew didn't you? Spoiled? I was lucky to get enough to eat to survive! My summer homework would be done on the train to school because I would be locked away from my school things all summer. THEY HURT ME AND YOU KNEW ABOUT IT!" Harry was shouting by the end and still walking towards Dumbledore, who was now backing away slowly. Everything made of glass shattered and the room became a whirlwind of glass. Harry was at the centre of the whirlwind, Snape and Dumbledore only safe from the flying glass by their proximity to Harry.

"I wonder, _sir_, did you think Tom Riddle was better off where he was at that horrible Muggle orphanage than he would have been anywhere else? He begged you to stay each summer too didn't he? Did you give him the same potion you give me each September?"

"Potion? What potion?" interrupted Snape.

"It's blue, with gold sparkles in, and tastes like liquorice with rose petals," said Harry, turning to the Potions Master behind him.

Snape's mouth dropped open in shock before he recovered himself; he took three paces across the eye of the glass whirlwind and slapped Dumbledore hard across the face.

"You gave a _child_ the _Magus Conculco_? Are you mad? When his suppressed magic frees itself…"

As Harry realised some of the implications of the potion, the glass whirlwind exploded outwards, shredding everything in its path. As splinters of furniture and pieces of feather and paper drifted down around them, he was aware of Snape's voice coming from somewhere.

"Get out. Get out now, before he kills us both. He is more powerful than you or I combined and right now he is mad at _you_, you cannot defend yourself against him and Merlin help me, I would not aid you."

Harry vaguely heard the door slam and then Snape was in front of him, kneeling down in the shredded ruins of his quarters to try and look up into Harry's eyes.

"Potter…Harry. Harry, look at me. Your magic is trying to fight the effects of the potion; your next dose would have been in less than forty-eight hours. The potion suppresses your magic and it is trying to break free. I need you to use as much magic as you can in safe ways to stop destruction such as you have wrought on my home."

There was a pleading note in Snape's voice, Harry realised. As he came back to his senses, he realised why. There was not a stick of furniture left in the room, the tapestries were gone and even the walls were marked, looking as if they had been peppered with shot, the paint stripped away.

"Professor? What happened? Did I do this? Am I in trouble?"

"No, Potter, you are not in trouble. You were…angry. Do you remember?"

"The money, the potion, and…and you bought me clothes! Yes sir, I remember! You and…him were arguing, so I listened," Harry paused, blushing. "You were arguing about me, something about an oath, I didn't hear enough to understand, but you said I was your responsibility?"

Severus sighed; of all the things to have picked up on, the one that was hardest to explain was the part the boy had heard.

"Yes Potter, you are. Do you remember your Charms lessons from last year? I mean specifically the essay that Professor Flitwick sets each year about Wizard Oaths and Wizard Bonds." As Harry nodded, he continued, "Wizard Oaths usually require a Bonder, a person to seal the Oath between two people, the idea being to make such Oaths fair by making a third party involved and to ensure that both parties agree to the terms of the Oath. What Professor Flitwick _will not_ have taught you is that a Bonder is not always required. If a person becomes emotionally involved in a situation and promises to do something, if their wish or promise is a just one, then their magic may make the Oath without a Bonder involved. Do you understand so far?"

"I think so sir. But what did you swear? Do you want me to clean for you like I did for Aunt Petunia?"

"No! No Potter, I do not. When I went to retrieve your trunk from your former home, I was confronted with your rather fat Cousin, who wanted to know where you were, and when you would be returning. I told him that you would not be and that I would care for you and house you rather than you retuning there. Although I didn't realise at the time, I had made an Oath and you are my responsibility now."

"But you hate me!" said Harry, then quickly slammed his hand over his mouth in horror as he realised what he had said.

"I didn't like what I thought you were, no. Now that I know I was in error, I'd like you to give me the benefit of the doubt and perhaps we might start again?" Extending his hand Severus said politely, "Good morning, I am Professor Snape, and I teach potions at Hogwarts."

More out of surprise than anything, Harry grasped his hand and shook it.

"Good morning sir, I am Harry Potter and I am a third year student attending Hogwarts."

With a flash of a smirk, Severus stood up and indicated to the kitchen. "Shall we? I find an argument first thing in the morning stimulates the appetite wonderfully."

Realising his dour professor had just made a joke; Harry followed him into the kitchen with a lighter heart. The kitchen had survived his anger for the most part. There were a few cupboards directly in line with the doorway that had splinters stuck in them and one edge of the tablecloth was shredded but it was all usable. Severus sat down on one chair and indicated that Harry sit at the one opposite. The look of uncertainty on the boy's face reminded Severus of the incident the previous morning, when Potter sat on the floor because he wasn't "worthy" to sit at the same level as his peers.

"While living with your relatives, there were rules you had to obey, am I correct?" he asked.

"Yes sir," said Harry, still standing nervously by the kitchen table, darting looks between the chair and the floor.

"Now that you live here, there will be rules to follow as well. We will discuss them while we eat, however the first rule is this: if I ask you to do something, you will obey me unless there is a genuine reason that you feel renders you unable to comply with my request. Is that clear?"

"Yes, sir."

"Good. Sit on the chair."

Harry looked between the chair and the floor, realising now the web that had been woven around him. If he obeyed Uncle Vernon he was disobeying Professor Snape, and vice versa. He was used to obeying Uncle Vernon, however he wasn't in the kitchen with him, and Professor Snape was. He debated the issue internally, stood next to the chair, fists clenched and sweating. With slow jerky movements he sat down, head ducked, waiting expectantly for a blow that never came.

"Good, well done. Now, I do not know what you like to eat in the mornings, so I shall order a selection. Tiggy!"

A house elf wearing a Hogwarts tea towel appeared in the kitchen with a _pop_.

"Tiggy is here to serve Master Potions Master Sir!" squeaked the elf.

"Provide us with a selection of breakfast items please Tiggy, with pumpkin juice for Mr Potter and coffee for myself. And a glass of milk as well."

"Yes Master Potions Master Sir!" said the elf and disappeared.

"While we wait for our food Mr Potter, I'd like to write down some rules." With a wave of his wand, Severus Summoned some parchment and a quill. He drew a line down the middle of the sheet and titled the two columns. One column was titled "Professor Snape" and the other "Harry Potter". In Harry's column, Severus wrote down the first rule: "_1._ _Harry will obey Professor Snape unless he is unable to do so."_

"Now, I will write some rules down in my column before we move on to yours," said Severus, and started to write.

Harry craned his neck and watched his professor write.

"_1. Professor Snape will not beat Harry._

_2. Professor Snape will not starve Harry._

_3. Professor Snape will not lock Harry in his room._

_4. Professor Snape will provide clothes and shoes as required."_

"There will be more to go in that column, but that is enough to be going on with," said Severus. "I will add some to your column now, but we will discuss them as we go."

"_2. Harry will tell Professor Snape if he is hurt in any way._

_3. Harry will ask for clothes, shoes or food if he needs them._

_4. Harry will not refer to himself as a freak, or as a waste of time, oxygen and space._

_5. Harry will try his best in all his schoolwork._

_6. Harry will not put himself in danger."_

"Do any of these rules present a problem Harry? Is there anything that you think is unfair or unreasonable?" asked Severus.

Harry looked down the list again, wondering whether to say anything.

"Um, number three sir, um, I mean, I don't mean to be a burden, err…" Harry's question tailed off as he watched Snape write a seventh rule down.

_7. Harry will __not refer to himself as a burden._

"Oh. Um, can I ask questions? I mean, Uncle Vernon always said I shouldn't ask questions."

_8. Harry will ask questions if there is something he wants to know._

"I think also there will be an addition to my column for that as well," said Severus and wrote in his own column:

"_5. Professor Snape will answer Harry's questions if he is able to do so."_

With a _pop_ Tiggy appeared with breakfast, interrupting any further discussion of rules. As Severus Banished the parchment and quill to the other side of the kitchen as Harry stared at the huge pile of platters of food the elf was carrying. She expertly provided both Wizards with plates and cutlery, then presented each with their drinks. Next, she placed platter upon platter of food on the table until there was hardly any table visible for the amount of food.

Severus raised an eyebrow. "How much food do you think we can eat it one sitting?" he asked.

"You are both too thin! Tiggy provides food to fatten you up!"

Harry blinked at the elf's cheek, wondering how Professor Snape would react. He knew that if _he_ had spoken like that the Uncle Vernon, it would result in a whipping at the very least. He certainly did not expect the bark of laughter from the Potions Master and an answering giggle from the elf. A closer look at the tea towel the elf wore showed a small symbol above the Hogwarts crest.

"Sir, what is the extra symbol on Tiggy's tea towel?" asked Harry hesitantly.

"It shows that she is the personal elf of a Master. I am a Potions Master, not just a potions professor. If you look closely, you can just make out the symbol is actually a tiny cauldron with a stirring rod. The council of House Elves decided long ago that those Wizards who were Masters in their field would require an elf's assistance. Each discipline has its own unique requirements and elves destined to be a Master's Elf are trained from birth in their discipline. Tiggy has been my elf since I gained my Mastery nearly twenty years ago and is more like family than anything else." As he was speaking, Severus was loading both plates with food from the platters; eggs, bacon, beans and hash browns with toast, and a side portion of mixed fruit salad. "Will you join us Tiggy?" he asked.

"No Master Potions Master sir, Tiggy has already eaten," said the elf. "Tiggy must also keeps an eye on Twinkle," she added darkly. "Twiggy is not trusting him at all sir." With that she disappeared, leaving the two Wizards to eat.

Harry managed half his plate of food before feeling to full to move. After several months of short rations, he was not used to eating in the morning, never mind the huge pile that had been on his plate. With an apologetic look at Snape, he pushed his half full plate away from him.

Severus smirked at the boy across the table. "I can never finish one of her breakfasts either. Come…no leave the dishes Potter, that is not your concern."

Harry reluctantly put the plates down again and followed his professor through to the ruined living room. Looking around again at the level of destruction, he felt a little guilty at what he had done. Snape was responsible for him now, and Harry had ruined his quarters, not finished his food and was wearing clothes which he had not thanked Snape for. He was not aware of the vibration thrumming through him and the air around him, nor was he aware of Snape spinning round to face him in consternation, worry etching his sharp features. Harry felt as though he was in a bubble, trying to break the surface tension so he could escape. Stretching his hands out, he _pushed_ against the bubble. With an almighty bang, both he and Professor Snape were thrown backwards off their feet, Harry into the doorway of the kitchen, Snape onto the sofa which now stood, once again, in cream coloured quarters. Gazing around themselves in wonder, both Harry and Severus realised that the destruction wrought by Harry less than an hour before, had all been righted. As Severus clambered to his feet, he took in the scale of what Harry had done. Not only had he fixed everything destroyed earlier, but also fixed the wobbly leg on his chair which had been broken for years, and the crack in the lintel over the fireplace, which the Guild of Floo-masters had quoted an extortionate price to repair.

"Well Mr Potter, I think we can stop worrying about when your magic resurfaces," said Severus, laughing.

"Why is that Sir?" said Harry nervously from the doorway.

"Why? Because it already has! Not only have you mended everything in the room, even those requiring magical craftsmanship such as the Floo, I can _feel_ your power from here. It's like being in the same room as a thunderstorm. Well done Mr Potter! I wonder what the Headmaster thinks he can do with you now?"

When Harry finally understood – that Dumbledore couldn't control him anymore, he joined his Potions Master laughing.

_A/N: Magus Conculco roughly translates as "Mage Suppressant"_


	8. The Sorting Hat

_A/N: I'm back! __Sorry for the huge delay, R/L has been getting in the way. Unfortunately, I doubt I'll be able to update as often as I used to…I would say every other week is the best I'm going to be able to manage and sometimes not even that. Please be patient with me. Just wanted to say thank you to all my reviewers again, you're all wonderful and give me will to continue._

_I own nothing you recognise, and this chapter contains mentions of abuse._

Over the next two days, both Harry and Severus started to realise the immense effect that the _Magus Conculco_ potion had been having on Harry. Severus realised very quickly that because magic is required for the brain to assimilate magical information, the reason for Potter's mediocre marks in all his classes except Defence Against the Dark Arts was evident. He could only assume that Dumbledore had wanted to boy to be hopeless in everything else so he was only good for defeating the Dark Lord. Potter's thirst for knowledge rivalled his own at a similar age, but the necessity of asking questions had been beaten out of him at an early age and his ability to learn magic was impaired by the potion once he came to Hogwarts. The rapt attention on Harry's face when Severus went off on a tangent explaining something was all the confirmation he needed.

While Harry's will to learn had increased exponentially once he realised he was not limited by headaches, lapses in concentration or tiredness; his willingness to talk about his former situation with his relatives had not changed. He would not mention it, and whenever the subject strayed too close to something he did not wish to talk about, he simply clammed up until Severus gave up and started a different topic.

Under Professor Snape's guidance, Harry had completed his summer assignments to a higher standard than ever before, and had become comfortable in his Professor's quarters. During the day, he would help Professor Snape in his lab making potions for the school stock. In the evenings, he would study and play chess. As the start of the school term drew closer however, the thought of returning to the Gryffindor Tower was enough to make his stomach feel lined with concrete, as if he a swallowed a bowling ball.

As his last night with Professor Snape approached, Harry became more withdrawn and barely touched his dinner. Once Severus had finished, he looked up to see Harry pushing his food around his plate with his fork, staring into middle-distance.

"Harry, what's wrong?" asked Severus, waving a hand in front of the boy's face to gain his attention.

"Nothing Sir," was the dull reply.

"Harry, do you remember rule one? Tell me what is wrong please."

"I…it's difficult. Term starts tomorrow and I don't know if I can go back to Gryffindor. I never really felt like I belonged there, they're all loud and brash and boisterous and remind me…remind me of…of Dudley. Ron was my first friend, but he's jealous of my fame. _Famous Harry Potter_," sneered Harry. "As if I wanted to be! I feel like I'm acting all the time in there. I wish I had let the Sorting Hat decide instead of arguing with it!" Harry slammed his fist down on the table top in anger. Severus had been trying to teach Harry anger management techniques after a minor disagreement had resulted in another outburst of magic, one that had set several bookshelves aflame.

Trying to control his surprise, Severus asked Harry to clarify. "What do you mean, you argued with it? It's a powerful magical artefact Harry, with sentience; it's not possible to make it change its mind."

"When Hagrid came to collect me, he told me that, um, Voldemort was a Slytherin, and I'd met Draco in Madam Malkin's and he was, well he was a bit of an idiot and then I met Ron on the train, and his family had all been in Gryffindor, and well, I thought I'd rather be a Gryffindor than a Slytherin, and then, when the Hat told me I'd be good in Slytherin, I told it, well I told it anywhere but Slytherin. So it put me in Gryffindor."

Severus digested this, while wondering how Harry had managed to say all that without pausing for breath.

"Harry, when did Dumbledore first give you the _Magus Conculco_?"

"Er, just before my Sorting I think. Why?"

"I think Mr Potter, that we need to make a visit to the Sorting Hat. Your sorting was influenced by the potion in your bloodstream. If you no longer wish to be a Gryffindor, we can have you re-sorted by claiming your first Sorting as invalid. Do you wish to be re-sorted?"

"I don't know sir; would I be a Slytherin this time? I know they don't like me."

"Not necessarily; on either count. Now that your intellect has been freed, you would make a good Ravenclaw. As for my Slytherins, I dare say they only saw the same as I: the spoilt Potter heir with a disregard for the rules. Are you sure about this? I was under the impression that you, Miss Granger and Mr Weasley were inseparable?"

"We are, I mean we were. I mean…I don't know what I mean Sir. They never knew me, I mean, they couldn't because of…because…" Harry trailed off and then said quietly, "because of what happened. With my…my relatives. And the potion. Did they ever really know me?"

Momentarily stunned by the boy's question, Severus paused before replying.

"I think, Harry, that if Mr Weasley and Miss Granger are truly your friends then it will not matter if you are re-sorted or not. What matters is whether you want to be, not whether they will approve."

Harry sat quietly, considering what his professor had said. He wanted to still be with Ron and Hermione, but at the same time wanted to distance himself from them. He knew now that Ron was pathetically grateful for being the best friend of The-Boy-Who-Lived, because it gave him status among his brothers who had always over-shadowed him. Hermione was the same: after having been always teased at Muggle primary school, she finally had friends. Although Harry knew he was being harsh on them, he still felt that Gryffindor was where Dumbledore had wanted him, rather than where he should have gone.

"I want to be re-sorted. And…I want to try that technique you mentioned yesterday, if you're still offering Sir."

"One thing at a time Mr Potter. We will go and see the Headmaster together and formally request your re-sorting. We will borrow his Pensieve at the same time and then we can progress to Occlumency. The Pensieve will help aid you in removing the emotional pain associated with the memories while we practice." Turning to the fireplace, Severus picked up the pot of Floo power. "Come Potter, let us surprise the Headmaster," he said with a smirk.

Harry grinned briefly then went back to looking nervous. He had not seen the Headmaster since the incident with the flying glass and wasn't looking forward to his next encounter. He could only hope that the anger control techniques that Professor Snape was teaching him would help him stay in control while in Dumbledore's presence. He followed Snape through the Floo and stumbled into Dumbledore's office.

"Harry! Severus! What a pleasant surprise! I trust all is well?" Dumbledore sounded jolly, but still looked marginally apprehensive.

"As Mr Potter's guardian, I wish to formally request a re-sorting on the grounds that his first was invalid by means of the _Magus Conculco_ potion," said Severus.

Harry had been watching the Sorting Hat while Severus made his request. At the mention of the potion, Harry was sure he heard the Hat mutter to itself and saw it shuffle on its shelf. He could hear Dumbledore and Professor Snape disagreeing about his re-sorting but had stopped listening. He knew Dumbledore would not be able to prevent it but would prevaricate all the same. He moved closer to the Hat and it opened the rips that did it for eyes.

"_Potter...I wondered if you would be back. Not the first I've re-sorted, no. The first for a while though, oh yes. Magus Conculco hmmm? I wondered even then, but was never sure. I was watching in the Chamber too, and then He told you your Slytherin qualities were a result of Tom Riddle didn't he? Yes…misguided, I'm afraid; he will not see the good in the Snakes, as if the Lions are all good…what good is bravery without intelligence? Stand still Potter, I have waited too long for this."_

The Hat shuffled to the edge of its shelf and spoke out over the din of the two arguing professors.

"_I am the Sorting Hat, I came from the head of Godric Gryffindor__. Do either deny my right?_

Dumbledore and Severus exchanged looks. The Hat had not issued its ritual challenge in centuries according to the records.

"We do not deny your right. What would you?" asked Dumbledore.

"_I claim the right of re-sorting this child." _

Dumbledore opened his mouth to protest, and then closed it again, knowing it to be pointless. Harry was watching proceedings with interest; he knew something more was going on here than just his re-sorting. Knowing he should have paid more attention to Hermione when she started quoting chapters of "Hogwarts, A History", Harry resolved to read it as soon as he could, especially the bits about the Sorting Hat.

"_Keep still Potter."_ With that, the Hat jumped off its shelf and onto Harry's head. _"Aah, yes, YES! Far more here than before…you were most dull before, no spark and no desire. Ooh yes, no bravado without guile, no loyalty without it being earned, no intelligence without ability…you've had a rough start Potter but it can get better from here. The Lions cannot help you with that, but you knew that already didn't you? Yes, I can see it. The Eagles would not either, they love books too much and care little for anything else, the Badgers are loyal, but are blinded by it. I said it before Potter, you know where I want to put you, and you know that you belong there, and always have. You are, heart and soul a _SLYTHERIN!_"_

The last word was shouted aloud, as it had been in the Great Hall when Harry was eleven. With a smirk a Slytherin would be proud of, Harry wondered what he would have said then if someone had told him that two years later, he had been re-sorted as a Snake.

As he stood there pondering his fate, he was aware that Snape was holding out a new robe for him. One with the Slytherin crest on the breast. He took hold of it, marvelling at the way the snake was coiled on the shield.

While Harry was admiring his new robe, Severus turned to the Headmaster.

"Harry and I will be requiring the use of your Pensieve, Headmaster. In order to continue his anger management issues, I will be teaching him Occlumency." At Dumbledore's stunned expression, Severus continued. "His recent experiences are so traumatic that he cannot bring himself to speak of them yet, and he has only tenuous control of his magic and anger. Without Occlumency, he could level the school and an area several miles around it if I'm any judge, merely by getting frustrated on the Quidditch pitch."

Dumbledore turned away and walked across his office to a large cabinet set against the wall. As he stood in front of it, the doors opened and the Pensieve on a pedestal moved forward out of the cabinet. Dumbledore waved his wand over the bowl of shimmering silvery liquid and several wisps of silver rose from the liquid. Directing them to vials at the side of the Pensieve, and then stoppering the vials, Dumbledore sighed.

"Is this really necessary Severus? Was it really _that_ bad? I mean, I knew he wouldn't be spoiled, but abuse? Really?"

Severus refused to look at his employer and one-time mentor. He knew his silence would say more than any words. He flicked his wand and levitated the Pensieve and turned back to Potter, who was once again quietly conversing with the Sorting Hat.

"Come Potter, we have much work to do."

Harry followed his Professor back down to the dungeons and in no time they were seated in the living room looking at each other over the Pensieve.

"The purpose of the Pensieve is to extract memories from your mind, usually to watch later for a variety of purposes. It also helps with Occlumency as I explained earlier, by removing the emotional attachments to the memories you remove. You will still remember the events they contain, however the pain associated with them will not be part of them. The memories can then be viewed objectively via the Pensieve. To extract a memory, you will have to think of the events leading up to it and concentrate. Hold your wand to your temple and withdraw the memory, then deposit it in the Pensieve. I'm going to leave you to do this in privacy, call me when you are ready, I will be in my lab."

Severus swept out of the room, leaving Harry with the Pensieve and his turbulent thoughts. An hour later, Harry knocked nervously on the door to Professor Snape's private potion's lab. His eyes were puffy from crying and his knuckles hurt from biting them, but without all the hurt, shame and guilt that went with the memories he felt better than he had done for years. He could look back at what his Uncle had done over the years and analyse the situation with a clarity he had never had. His Uncle didn't love him; he was a sick man who used his nephew to fuel his twisted desires. There was no excuse or reason that would explain why Vernon had done what he had done, no justification for the rape, burns or whipping, no defence for the long hours of work with no food or water.

There was a small _pop_ behind him and he turned to find Tiggy hopping from one foot to the other, holding one long finger against her lips in a gesture for him to be quiet. She pointed to her eyes, then to the Pensieve, then to the tapestry of three witches invoking the element of water, behind which, if one was looking _really_ closely, there was a house-elf shape in the cloth. Harry turned quickly back to the door just as it opened, hearing a small _pop_ as Tiggy disappeared again.

Severus opened his lab door and took in the sight before him. Potter had obviously been upset by withdrawing the memories, something he knew may happen considering the strength of the emotions behind the trauma the boy had suffered. However, there was a steely glint in the boy's eyes that had not been there earlier. Without all the guilt and shame associated with abuse, especially the kind this boy had suffered, Severus could see that Harry _knew_ that what had happened had not been deserved.

"Are you finished with the Pensieve Mr Potter?" asked Severus, knowing the answer already. He asked the question trying to buy time to work out what else it was he saw in the boy's eyes.

"I have Sir. I was wondering Sir, that as Headmaster Dumbledore's Pensieve is very important to him, I feel we ought to return it to him while we have our lesson. There will be nothing of interest to him Sir and I would feel better if it was returned to him for the duration of our studies." As he spoke, Harry caught the Potion's Master's eyes and made a minute flick of his eyes towards the tapestry. He knew Severus had spotted the elf when his eyes narrowed.

"A good plan Mr Potter and one worthy or your new status as a Slytherin. Twiggy! See to it that the Headmaster's elf collects the Pensieve immediately. Mr Potter and I will conduct our lesson in my lab," said Severus sternly to the elf when she appeared.

A sly grin crossed her face momentarily, then she bowed. "Yes Master," she said seriously.

Taking hold of Harry's arm, Severus marched him into the lab. Once the door was shut and warded with silencing spells, both wizards let out a bray of laughter.

"That elf that was hiding behind the tapestry, was that…?"

"Yes Potter, that was Twinkle, the Headmaster's elf. Thanks to your exemplary acting skills, I'm sure the Headmaster won't be able to resist taking a peek in the contents of the Pensieve."

Both wizards sobered at the mention of Harry's acting skills.

"You've always been acting haven't you? All your life I think. It wasn't a one-off was it Potter?"

"No Sir. However, I'd like to proceed with the first stages of Occlumency training before trying to speak about it. The wounds are still too raw as it were," Harry paused before continuing. "The paste you gave me for the burns has reduced the scars so they are barely legible. Thank you."

"Thanks are unnecessary Potter. Sit down, let us begin the initial stages of your training."


	9. Ron

_A/N: Thanks for bearing with me with this, your reviews are food for the muse and encourage me to continue. Usual warnings apply, and I obviously own nothing you recognise._

Harry and Professor Snape spent about two hours practicing meditation techniques that night, extending what had already been discussed as part of Harry's anger management strategies. Harry learnt to focus his mind on a specific image, allowing his mind to examine the image from a variety of angles. The discussion on what he had learnt went on long into the night over numerous cups of cocoa. He knew what the next steps would be, namely learning to alter the image and then learning to seed memories into it so that they would not intrude on his conscious thoughts. The image he had chosen was a rock pool at the seaside which he had seen when on a school trip when he was seven. He had been the only one that day who had never been to the seaside and it was a day of wonders for him. His rock pool was fringed with fronds of seaweed and was home to a rather large crab as its protector. Eventually, the bottom of the pool would be covered with a variety of small pebbles – the memories of the abuse he had suffered at the hands of his relatives.

Currently however, he was packing his things into his trunk in preparation for Tiggy taking it to the Slytherin third year dorm. Looking over his belongings however, he realised that he had none of the books he would need for the coming school year, nor had he replenished his potions supplies. He finished packing his socks before attempting to find Professor Snape.

Harry eventually found him in his office next to the Potions classroom, putting the final finishing touches to his lesson plans for the year. He looked up as Harry came in, and put down his quill, fairly sure of what was coming.

"Harry, what can I do for you?"

"Um, I noticed just now that I have none of the books or potions ingredients I'll need for this year Sir. Is it too late to go to Diagon Alley? I can remember most of what I need, my list was…was destroyed Sir. I'll need to go to Gringotts first though."

"Harry, as your guardian, buying school books is _my_ responsibility not yours. I know you have always had to buy your things from Vault 687 but as your legal guardian now, I am party to the Potter Vaults. Vault 687 was designed as spending money for treats and days out – pocket money if you will. It was never for furnishing you with daily necessities. The allowance paid to your relatives was intended to buy your school things as well as clothes and shoes. As your guardian, that annual stipend comes to me, not that I need it. As such, I have already purchased your school books as well as a number of other items I know you need. Come with me Mr Potter."

With a wave of his hand, Severus tidied his desk and locked the drawers. He left his office, Harry trailing behind him. Once back in his quarters, Severus indicated that Harry should perch on the sofa and wait. Harry watched in amazement as Professor Snape opened a cupboard and retrieved a tiny trunk. With a wave of his wand, the trunk was normal sized.

"Do close your mouth Potter, you'll catch flies," said Severus with a smirk. "Well go on then, have a look!"

Harry shut his mouth with an audible snap and scrambled inelegantly from the sofa. When he opened the lid of the trunk, which was beautiful ebony with dragon-hide detailing, he gasped in shock. Inside, there was even more clothes, sets of Slytherin robes, new shoes and winter boots, a thick winter cloak with a fur-lined hood and a brand new wand holster. Under the clothes were books he recognised from this year's book list: Standard Book of Spells Grade 3, Unfogging the Future, Intermediate Transfiguration, and a furry book in a cage, growling to itself. There were others too: The Hidden Mind – Beginning Occlumency, Potioneering Through The Ages, and Hogwarts: A History. Under the books was new set of scales and stirring rods.

When Harry looked up at his guardian, there were tears of gratitude and shock in his eyes. As such, he didn't immediately see that Snape was holding out two more small packages to him. Furiously wiping his eyes on his sleeve, Harry took the two items and set one on the coffee table while he opened the other. The first was a confirmation of an appointment with a Wizarding optician; who, according to the heavily embossed card in his hand, would be visiting him "in the convenience of your home" at half past three today. With a glance at the ornate clock over the mantelpiece he realised they would be arriving soon. He put down the card and picked up the other package. Once unwrapped, it revealed itself to be an expensive-looking box. Carefully he opened the box and couldn't contain the gasp that escaped his lips when he saw what it contained. Nestled on deep blue velvet was a pair of pocket watches. Upon closer inspection, one had his face on the solitary hand. Recognising the similarities with the Weasley Clock, Harry looked closer. As on the Weasley Clock, the position of the hand could point at "home", "lost", "travelling", "prison", or "mortal peril". The differences were that instead of "hospital" it read "hospital wing" and instead of "school" there were two options: "common room" or "classes". The other watch had Snape's face on the hand, and the dial had locations such as "home", "office", "lab", "classroom", "meeting" as well as the ever-present "mortal peril". Realising the implications, Harry picked out his watch with Snape's face and attached it securely to his robes, then passed the box to his guardian. Severus solemnly picked out the other watch and likewise attached it to his robes.

"There are additional features built into yours, given the circumstances. A double tap either with your hand or wand whilst saying my name will alert me that you require my help and I will be able to Port-Key to your location using my watch. If my watch shows you in mortal peril, I can double tap whilst saying your name and it will Port-Key you to my side. Both watches have the standard Wizard charms; Imperturbable, Sticking and Unbreakable, meaning you cannot damage it, lose it or break it."

"Thank you Sir," said Harry hoarsely.

The moment was interrupted by chimes coming from the portrait door to Severus' quarters. Severus opened the portrait to allow an incredibly stooped old man through into the living room. "Mr Occula, I presume?" A nod from the old man was followed by a shaky hand holding some sort of identity badge Harry had never seen. Severus examined the man's credentials and satisfied, allowed the man to enter. The old man looked around the room briefly then focused intently on Harry.

"Mr Potter! Marvellous! Do sit down, we'll begin," said the man, his strong voice sounding odd coming from such a frail body. With a wave of his wand, he transfigured an optometrist's chair from a stool in the corner and positioned it under Harry. Another wave extinguished all light in the room.

"Now then…look at the tip of my wand please. It won't hurt a bit, but may feel a little…odd."

With that, his wand tip started to glow, and then started changing colour rapidly.

"Hmmm…right…hmmm…right…now then, follow the tip…left…good, now right…good, well done."

With a wave of his wand, the lights were rekindled and Harry was sitting on an ordinary stool.

Turning to Severus, the old man looked furious.

"May we speak privately? I have some concerns."

"Anything you wish to say can be said in front of my ward," sneered Severus. "We have no secrets from each other."

"Very well. This poor child has _never_ had an eye test; the glasses he was wearing are so unsuitable it's amazing he doesn't walk into walls. The weaknesses in his eyes are not caused by normal means, they are purely down to malnutrition and several hard blows to the head, there is even evidence of untreated skull fractures. He is beyond my help; he needs a Healer not a new set of glasses. I will require some explanation as to his injuries before I can submit my report to the Wizarding Children's Protection Service."

The old man was breathing heavily by the time he had finished, and had moved to stand in between Harry and a furious Severus Snape.

"Harry is my ward, and has been for four days since being removed from his family. His injuries are _not_ your concern, nor is a report to the WCPS. I am his guardian by virtue of a Bonder-less Wizard's Oath."

At those words, the old man looked stunned. He turned to look at Harry, who had been edging closer and closer to Professor Snape all the time he had been speaking. With a look down at Harry, Severus put his hand gently on the boy's shoulder.

"Without a Bonder? You…him…Really?" the elderly optometrist looked from one to the other in amazement.

"Yes, _really_. I take it you are familiar with the circumstances surrounding Bonder-less Oaths?" asked Severus harshly.

"The emotional bond required, empathy not just sympathy, genuine protectiveness combined with two compatible magical cores. A rare occurrence indeed," the man smiled widely and looked at Harry. "You are a lucky young man, to have a guardian such as he: most wizards are not powerful enough to make the Oath without a Bonder even when the conditions are met. Good day to the both of you."

The old man shuffled out of the room leaving Harry and Severus gaping after him. They watched the door close then burst into laughter.

"So, when can I get an appointment with a Healer to get my eyes sorted then?" asked Harry when they had calmed. "He was right about how useless these glasses are."

"As luck would have it Mr Potter, I am a certified Healer. Most Potions Masters are, in order to attain Mastery in potions; a knowledge of Healing is required in order to survive. Now that we know your eyes need Healing not glasses, it should be fairly simple. There is a potion and a series of charms, it will be uncomfortable but you should have normal vision by the time I've finished. The potion will take three days to brew, so you will have to stick with your glasses until the weekend. Now then, it is time to introduce you to the rest of your house. Slytherins know that I wish to see them in the quarter of an hour that it takes the rest of the school to organise themselves."

Severus opened the portrait door and ushered a suddenly nervous Harry out into the corridor and led him to the passageway where the entrance to the Slytherin Common room was located. Harry had to smother a smile, remembering the last time he had been here. He and Ron had used Polyjuice to impersonate Crabb and Goyle, thinking that Draco Malfoy was the Heir of Slytherin.

"The password is Dolosus, the boys dorms are on right, the girls on the left. My Slytherins have curfews according to age, yours will be 9.30pm. There is a list of House Rules on the Notice board, learn them and abide by them, I tend not to dock my own House points, I have lots of thoroughly disgusting cauldrons that require cleaning."

The wall opened revealing the passageway. With trepidation, Harry slowly walked down the passage followed by Severus.

Harry entered the Common Room, followed immediately by a complete silence that seemed to deafen in its totality. The noise level didn't increase even when Severus entered behind him.

"Welcome back to Hogwarts Slytherins. I see you have already met your newest member," he sneered. "I trust Mr Potter will be welcomed. Mr Flint, I want you to take charge of Mr Potter's well being as I do yours."

Marcus Flint stepped forward and placed a hand on Harry's skinny shoulder, noticing but not commenting when he felt the younger boy flinch under his hand.

"I will Sir."

Severus turned on his heel and beckoned to his still speechless house. "Come, I will not have Slytherin House late for the Opening Feast."

Slowly, the Slytherin students followed their Head of House from the dungeons in an orderly fashion. Harry was aware of the rest of his new house looking at him, some with speculative expressions, some, like Malfoy, with open dislike. It wasn't until they reached the Atrium near the Great Hall that disaster struck. Standing in front of Professor McGonagall were Ron and Hermione, shouting and waving their hands. They caught sight of Harry amongst the mass of Slytherins and dashed towards him, not seeing how he shrank back against Marcus Flint. Ron grabbed his shoulder and started trying to lead him away, shooting venomous looks at the amused Slytherins.

"Come on Harry, lets get away from them, what where they doing to you mate? And why weren't you on the train? Where have you been? What…"

"Mr Weasley, do pause for breath, and release Mr Potter to let him enter the Hall with the rest of his House, they are waiting for him," growled Professor Snape. "I rather thought you were going to deal with this _before_ there was a scene Minerva," he said to the now fuming Professor McGonagall and turned away with a smirk.

Ron let go of Harry in shock, and looked him over properly.

"You're wearing the wrong robes! You're wearing…_Slytherin_ robes," he said with disgust evident in his voice. "What's going on Harry?"

Hermione had been watching the exchange and had put the pieces together. "You've been re-Sorted haven't you? By guardian request? But I thought your Aunt and Uncle were Muggles?"

"Um, they are but I have a new guardian, and the Sorting Hat made its ritual challenge, the first for over 100 years according…"

"What do you mean re-Sorted?" interrupted Ron. "Can't you tell them you didn't mean it and come back to Gryffindor where you belong? What new guardian?"

"Mr Weasley, allow Mr Potter to re-join his House and go and sit down, you are delaying the Sorting," said Professor McGonagall.

Reluctantly, Ron walking into the Great Hall, looking back at Harry standing with a crowd of Slytherins. He paused in the doorway and turned. He looked straight at Harry and his lip curled. "_Traitor_," he hissed.

Hermione watched Ron sit down at the Gryffindor table and glanced at Harry. "Are you happy being a Slytherin?" she asked.

"It suits me," replied Harry quietly.

"Good enough for me," she said and gave him a quick hug before joining Ron at the Gryffindor table.

Marcus flint gave Harry a nudge. "Come on we've got to sit down or we'll be late," he whispered.

Harry walked into the Great Hall in the midst of his Housemates and sat down at the Slytherin house table. The Hall erupted in whispers and Harry ducked his head, blushing furiously with embarrassment.

Flint nudged him gently again. "Head up Potter, be proud of your House."

Harry raised his head and stared defiantly round the Hall, hoping he didn't look concerned by all the students watching him and whispering to each other. Professor McGonagall walked up the centre aisle of the Hall followed by a group of nervous looking eleven year olds, and for the first time Harry could remember, nobody was paying any attention to the Sorting. Whilst the Houses applauded additions to their ranks, most students were focussed upon him. When the Sorting was over, Professor McGonagall strode out with the stool and the Sorting Hat, which tipped Harry a wink as it went past.

Harry managed to eat very little of the feast as he was still unused to normal portions of food, however between pushing his carrots round his plate, he spotted Tristan trying to catch his attention. He smiled at the boy and nodded his head to indicate he was alright. When the feast was over, he rose when the rest of Slytherin stood and made his way to the doors. Suddenly someone shoved Harry hard in the back and he went sprawling on the floor, his glasses flying off.

"Where's your guardian now Potter? He another Death Eater like the rest of your House?"

Harry found his glasses and put them back on, only to reveal the origin of the spiteful words as Ron, his face twisted with disgust and anger. Hermione was hanging desperately onto one of his arms, trying ineffectually to hold him back, her eyes desperately begging Harry for forgiveness. The gathering of students around them parted like water as Professor Snape strode through. He gently helped Harry up from the floor then turned and advanced on Ron.

"If you touch my ward again Weasley, Gryffindor will be in negative points until you graduate! Detention! You will report to my office tomorrow at 6pm sharp."

"Snape? Your new guardian is SNAPE?" shouted Ron, seemingly unaware of just how much of a scene he was making, and just how much trouble he was in. "How could you? Merlin's balls Harry, what's wrong with you?"

Ron tried to push his way through the crowd, only to be halted by Professor McGonagall, who had been drawn by the shouting.

"Twenty points from Gryffindor Mr Weasley; I will not tolerate your attitude, or your choice of language. Mr Potter's home life is of no concern to you; now get to your tower before I make it fifty!"

Ron shot a final venomous look in Harry and Snape's direction then left for the Gryffindor tower as fast as pride would allow. As the crowd dispersed, Harry was left standing forlornly alone, watching the boy he thought was his best friend climb the stairs to Gryffindor tower. Hermione touched Harry's arm, making him jump.

"He'll come round Harry, he's just upset. You have to admit, this is a bit of a shock. Leave him a few days and then maybe you can explain what's happened. Something obviously has," as Harry opened his mouth to protest. "When you're ready Harry." She squeezed his arm briefly and then followed Ron up the moving staircases.

Harry followed the rest of his Slytherin Housemates down to their dungeon, wondering not for the first time whether he had done the right thing.


	10. Hermione

_A/N: __Sorry for the huge delay, work commitments and a rotten cold have taken their toll…Thank you all for your continued support; your reviews are food for the muse. More than one person has asked if I planned any pairings – I haven't but if they develop naturally then I won't stop them. Usual warnings apply._

Harry barely slept that first night; he lay awake in his new dorm listening to Zabini, Malfoy, Crabbe and Goyle snore. They hadn't said anything to him when they had been getting ready for bed, although as Harry had been expecting a tirade of verbal abuse from at least one of them, the uneasy silence had been welcome.

The following morning, they dressed in silence, although Harry was sure he had interrupted a conversation when he emerged from the shower. Flint once again escorted Harry to the Great Hall with one hand on his shoulder. Under his watchful gaze, the Slytherins clustered round their newest member and fended off several over-eager Gryffindors who thought that repeating Ron's insult of "traitor" was a good idea. Bemused at this show of loyalty to one they were not sure of, Harry quietly asked Marcus about it when they sat down together at the house table.

"Why did everyone defend me? Most of them don't like me – or at least the person they think is me," he added bitterly.

"Because you are a Slytherin, Potter. We look after our own because nobody else will. We are stigmatised because of where we have been sorted," replied Marcus. "We are not all followers of You-Know-Who," he whispered in Harry's ear. "We have our pride."

With that, Flint turned his attention to his breakfast, leaving Harry to his thoughts. Harry ate a bowl of cereal on autopilot, barely registering the looks he was getting from the rest of the school. He glanced at his timetable when it appeared next to his bowl, and groaned when he realised that his first lesson of the new school year was to be Potions with Gryffindor. He had hoped that he would have more time for Ron to get used to the idea of him in Slytherin before facing him in Potions, a lesson taught by his new guardian.

"Malfoy! Come here," said Marcus, waving to the young Slytherin further down the table. When Draco had walked nonchalantly round to where Marcus and Harry were sat, Marcus made the boy next to him shuffle up to allow Draco to sit down between himself and Harry.

"Professor Snape has made me responsible for Potter's welfare during school hours. As I am not going to be in any of his classes, I am delegating my responsibility to you as you are in his year-group. If anything happens to _him_, _I_ will happen to _you,_ after the Professor happens to _me_. Am I understood Malfoy?"

"Yes Sir," said Malfoy, shooting a speculative look at Harry. "Come on Potter, we have to be early to Potions as it's the Professor teaching it…no, not that way, there's a shortcut open only to those of us who live in the dungeons," Malfoy smirked as he led Harry down a dark passageway leading in the opposite direction to the stairs he knew led to the Potions Lab from the Atrium. Harry wondered if Malfoy intended mischief and was about to ask when he heard voices ahead. Rounding a corner, he realised that the passageway led to the back of the statue of Libatius Borage which was next to the door leading to the potions classroom.

Malfoy and Harry were first to arrive, and Harry stood nervously while Malfoy leaned casually against a wall.

"So, Potter is now one of us. What happened Potter? Why is one third of the troublesome trio now a Snake?" drawled Malfoy. Harry could see he was curious despite the aura of indifference.

Harry looked at Malfoy, trying to judge how much he wanted to say. Before Harry could think about it, Malfoy spoke again.

"The Professor has put you in Marcus' care. I _know_ what that means Potter. Marcus wasn't the only one to notice you flinch when he put his hand on your shoulder last night." Malfoy looked away briefly and muttered quietly, "you're not the only one who does that."

Harry stared at the other boy in shock, but anything he was going to say died on his lips when he heard the rest of the class approaching. Half a dozen Slytherins appeared from behind him, from the passageway; and he could hear the loud chatter of the Gryffindors coming down the corridor from the other direction.

Any confrontation was averted by the appearance of Professor Snape, who threw open the door to the classroom and waved the students in. Harry took his place next to Malfoy after a sad look to the other side of the classroom where he used to sit.

The noise of the approaching Gryffindors swelled as they spilled into the classroom, chattering amongst themselves. All of them nodded or smiled hello to Harry with the exception of Ron, who ignored him completely and was very careful to not even glance in his direction.

"Pay attention Potter!" hissed Malfoy in his ear. Harry jumped, realising he had been watching Ron instead of listening to Professor Snape who had started to speak.

Their potions summer homework had been on Shrinking Solution and now they would have to brew it. Harry collected the few ingredients that he didn't have in his kit, and set to work mincing his daisy roots. As he started on finely slicing his caterpillars, he was aware of a whispered argument happening on the other side of the room. He recognised Ron's "whisper" – Ron couldn't be quiet if his life depended on it; and Hermione's hissing voice telling Ron he was being stupid. As he worked on his potion, the argument was getting louder. By the time Harry was watching his potion carefully with his bottle of leech juice in his hand, trying to judge whether any more was required; the argument had attracted the attention of most of the class, including Malfoy. Harry turned the heat off under his cauldron as his potion went a brilliant green. Turning to look at the rest of the class, everybody was watching Ron and Hermione row, and as a result, nearly everybody's potion was a sticky-looking orange instead of green. Both Ron and Hermione had completely forgotten about their potions and were standing nose-to-nose arguing fiercely.

"…what do you mean, prejudiced? Have you forgotten what Malfoy said to you last year? You can't trust them!"

"Does that include Harry as well Ron? Or have you turned your back on him just because he's in a different house?"

"He's a _Slytherin_ Hermione!"

"What's that got to do with it? He's still Harry! Someone's house doesn't change who they _are_ Ronald, you're being ridiculous!"

"Ridiculous? You're the one being ridiculous, Slytherins are _evil_!"

"_If_ you've quite finished disrupting my class Mr Weasley, I wonder if you could share your reasoning behind that statement?" purred Professor Snape from behind the quarrelling pair.

Ron went white, gulped and shook his head.

"No? I didn't _think_ so. Detention, both of you. That makes two in two days unless I'm mistaken Mr Weasley, last night's cauldron scrubbing obviously didn't have the desired effect, hmm?" said Snape, quirking one eyebrow. "Ten points from Gryffindor."

Harry was awarded five points for his perfect potion, nobody else had managed to brew the potion correctly. As he was leaving the potions classroom, Hermione grabbed his arm.

"Can I walk to Charms with you?"

"Push off Granger," spat Malfoy taking Harry's other arm. "He's coming with me."

Not wanting to alienate the only Gryffindor still speaking to him, Harry linked arms with both Hermione and Malfoy.

"We're going together," he said.

Malfoy grumbled and removed his arm but nodded his assent. The three of them walked up the stairs and along to the Charms corridor in silence. As they reached the classroom, Hermione spoke, unable to contain herself any longer.

"Harry, I'm sorry about Ron. He doesn't understand what's happened; I think he sees it as some sort of betrayal. I know what it takes for the Sorting Hat to issue its ritual challenge; if it thinks you're better of with Slytherin who am I to argue?" She hugged Harry briefly and darted into the classroom before he could reply. Harry looked a Malfoy, shrugged his shoulders and followed her.

The next few weeks were hard on Harry. Most of the Gryffindors had more or less got used to the idea of him being in Slytherin, but the easy friendship he used to have with them had gone. Ron had stopped trying to make trouble for him, but was now ignoring both him and Hermione. Ron seemed to go through his days in a permanent sulk, only speaking when spoken to. Hermione and Malfoy seemed to have formed some sort of unspoken truce, originally because of Harry, but more recently they had discovered a common love for arithmancy and could often be seen arguing in the library over a book.

Every second Wednesday, and every Sunday night, Harry would have dinner with Severus in his quarters. They would talk about their week and Severus would read over Harry's homework, then sit in front of the fire with cocoa and talk about whatever came to mind – articles in various journals on a variety of subjects, or a point of conjecture in one of Harry's classes. Occasionally Harry would let slip something of his childhood; each time, Severus would have to fight to keep his emotions under control, anger that anybody could treat a child in the way Harry had been treated, disgust at himself for not seeing it, and sorrow at the matter-of-fact way Harry would speak. One of the most notable comments had Severus laughing out loud until Harry had continued, at which point he nearly cried. Harry had been talking about sarcasm: "Uncle Vernon always told me off for being sarcastic, even when I wasn't trying to be. _"Sarcasm is the lowest form of wit,"_ he would say. One day I turned to him and said, _"Well I have to come down to your level sometimes otherwise you'll never understand me."_" Harry paused as Severus laughed. "Obviously I was whipped to within an inch of my life; I couldn't sit for a week or lay on my back for a month, but it worth it to see the look on his face."

Severus stopped laughing and looked over at Harry, who was now gazing into the fire.

"We will catch the men that hurt you Harry. It's been over a month since I…found you, are you ready to face them, to stand up in the Wizangamot and testify against them? I will support you in every way I can, but this decision must be yours."

"Yes Sir, I think I'm ready. What do we need to do?"

"_You_ do not have to do anything, I will. You will concentrate of your school work, and I will arrange things. The Headmaster has, in anticipation of your readiness, prepared a charm that will transcribe your Pensieved memories to parchment. I want you make sure that every bump, knock, and scar has a memory about it in that Pensieve. I want every horrible thing that monster did to you written down for the court. Will your Hufflepuff friend help as well?"

Harry looked startled. He had not considered Tristan's part in this, indeed, with everything that had been going on; Tristan had quite slipped his mind. Guilt flashed through him as he realised that he had barely spoken two words to Tristan in the last month. Harry looked up at Severus with tears in his eyes.

"I don't know. I…oh gods…I haven't spoken to him, I don't know how he is, how he's coping…oh sir…" Harry burst into tears.

Severus clasped Harry's still thin shoulders and pulled him into a hug.

"Tristan is fine Harry. He is one of a number of students that rely on my care when they return from their families each year. He has been visiting me during my office hours, and we have talked about what happened. I feel a request for his help in this matter would do better coming from you however."

There was a knock at the portrait door. Severus looked over at Harry, "You will shortly have your opportunity, I believe that will be Mr Rawn now."

_A/N: I've taken a few liberties with the timetable, I know Harry's first day back in 3__rd__ Year isn't a Friday so he wouldn't have potions first…_


	11. Minerva

_A/N: Thanks again for continuing with me, please review. Usual warnings, and I obviously own nothing._

Harry hopped nervously from one foot to the other in the middle of the sitting room as Severus ushered Tristan in. His guilt over not talking to Tristan sooner was eating at him. The older boy had been through the same sort of things as Harry, and had helped to rescue him. Without Tristan, Harry would still be in Gryffindor, still be living with the Dursleys, and would not have use of all of his magic. Drawing on his developing Occlumency skills, Harry cleared his mind, stopped shuffling his feet and took a deep breath.

As Severus gestured for Tristan and Harry to sit, the two boys exchanged smiles and positioned themselves on the sofa next to each other. The Floo chimed, indicating someone was attempting contact. Severus tapped the mantelpiece to allow entry, and then moved his wand in a complicated pattern that both boys recognised as a recording spell, one used for the oral part of exams and for transcribing statements in the Auror division.

"Given the circumstances, I felt it appropriate that a female member of staff was present for this discussion. Mr Rawn, Mr Potter, do either of you object to the presence of Professor Sprout for this conversation?" asked Severus.

Harry went a little pale at the thought of talking about…_things_ with somebody else there, but one look at the more relaxed face of Tristan told him everything he needed to know. Although the other boy had been through similar, the mental scars were still raw. Harry's developing skill with Occlumency had allowed him peace of mind, whereas Tristan wasn't comfortable being a room with only men.

"No Sir, no objections," said Harry, with a surreptitious glance at Tristan then at Severus, conveying with his eyes that he understood the reasons behind the request.

As Professor Sprout exited the Floo and brushed herself down, Severus produced a tea set and set it down on the table between them. He then opened a cupboard and retrieved a large, dark blue marble Pensieve with the Auror badge on the side.

"This is an official Auror Pensieve, one that we will fill this evening with the purpose of providing evidence for the Aurors to arrest and bring to justice the persons incriminated by your memories. Although the men who hurt you are Muggles, some are Wizard-aware Muggles and they all committed crimes against Wizarding children so this will be dealt with through the Ministry of Magic. The Ministry will also use this evidence to locate the Muggle children involved and inform the Muggle equivalent of Wizarding Children's Protection Service. Do either of you have any questions thus far?"

Both boys shook their heads.

"Very well. Harry would you like to be first?" asked Severus, trying to convey with his eyes that Harry speaking first would make it easier for Tristan. Severus knew that Harry would find this easier, due to his Occlumency skills and the use of the Headmaster's Pensieve.

Harry had understood the look in his guardian's eyes, but it didn't stop the apprehension that he always experienced when he tried to speak about his childhood and the way he was treated. When he was eight, he had tried to tell his primary school teacher about his home life. The teacher had been sceptical, Harry's reasons for not doing well in school (because he mustn't get higher marks than Dudley) and his explanation of his bad absence record (because he had bruises and welts in places that would show) were a bit unlikely and the teacher had visited Harry at home one weekend. Petunia and Vernon and exclaimed over the "lies" he had told and showed her into the kitchen where Harry and Dudley were preparing the vegetables for Sunday dinner. The teacher had gone away satisfied and convinced Harry was a compulsive liar, Harry had not eaten for three days and been whipped to within and inch of his life, firstly for telling and secondly because it had meant Dudley doing housework. He had not tried to tell anybody since, and the mental scar had stayed. If he told, he got hurt, and nobody believed him.

Harry nodded, but then sat silently wondering where to start. He twisted his hands nervously, then jumped as Tristan placed a gentle hand on his shoulder.

"Sheesh! Peel me off the ceiling," muttered Harry.

"Start there Harry. At why you jump when someone touches you when you're not expecting it," Tristan clarified at the questioning look Harry threw his way.

Harry nodded, and then started to speak. He had no idea of what he was going to say before he said it, it was almost the verbal equivalent of automatic writing. More than anything else though, it was catharsis and it felt good to finally tell the whole, horrible story.

"I can't remember not being beaten. I know it started before I went to Primary school, but I started late anyway. I don't think my Aunt and Uncle ever planned to send me to school, but my place of residence had been logged with the Muggle as well as the Magical authorities and they had a phone call asking why I wasn't in school. I got beaten for that too – as if it was my fault. I wasn't allowed to play with Dudley in case I contaminated him or something. I had to do chores instead of my homework, by the time I was seven, I was cooking dinner most nights. I was eight when my Uncle forced me to give him a blow-job for the first time…"

Harry talked for over an hour, detailing the sexual, mental emotional and physical abuse he had suffered. While he spoke, Severus was extracting memories. When Harry reached the night he had his virginity taken from him, Severus indicated to Professor Sprout to extract the memory, and sat down next to Harry, holding his self-control tightly with both hands. Although he had seen the aftermath with his own eyes, hearing it for the first time was horrifying. When Harry started to speak about the following evening though – the first time Harry's Uncle had starting selling his nephew's body to others, he took over the extraction process, knowing that these were the memories that would incriminate these men.

Harry then started to detail the "parties" his Uncle took him to. He paused for a drink of tea when Professor Sprout rushed to the bathroom and was noisily sick. When she returned he continued up to the point he had met Tristan. He explained the overwhelming sense of shame he had felt at the fact that somebody from the magical world now knew the truth, and how he had tried to protect the older boy. He fell silent when he reached the point Severus had walked in Tristan's front door.

Tristan took a deep breath, released it and took another. Then he began. He started with his father touching him when he was very young, and worked his way through the abuse. He had not been beaten like Harry, nor starved, but the scars of the sexual abuse were deeper because of that. The sexual abuse wasn't an extension of other abuse like Harry had suffered, meaning he was more bewildered by his father's treatment. Tristan spoke about how Professor Snape had started singling him out in class, making him stay behind after nearly every potions class for the first few weeks of each term, giving him healing potions and anti-virals, always mentioning his office hours. Eventually, Tristan started seeking him out of his own accord, trying to talk about what had been happening. His voice started to shake when he spoke about the "party" his father had taken him to, where he had met Harry. He spoke about how grateful he was that he knew someone there, how Harry had given him advice, and helped him to dress when it was all over.

Both boys were pale and shaking when he finished, as was Professor Sprout, who had only known that Tristan had required medical treatment before term started and that she needed to keep an eye on him.

"Why was I not told of the abuse suffered by one of my own House?" she asked.

Harry answered before anyone else could.

"Shame," he said, seeing Tristan nodding from beside him. "We are not the only two in Hogwarts, just the only two you know of. I think we are all ashamed of what has happened to us and just want to try and get on with our lives."

Professor Sprout opened her mouth to reply, then thought better of it. She looked over to Severus, a thoughtful look in her eyes.

"I think that perhaps we need to re-instigate the House Council Meetings. Perhaps that will help the rest of us see what you have so obviously been doing for so long Severus, and with guidance maybe we can help."

Severus nodded, a vindictive gleam in his eye.

"Do you remember Pomona, just when and why the meetings were stopped? And by whom? Does that tell you anything?" he said with a sneer.

Professor Sprout paled as the implications of what he had said sunk in. The House Council Meetings had been held twice a month between the four House Heads, and had been stopped by Dumbledore nearly fourteen years ago. A time that coincided with the birth of one of the boys sitting on the sofa with her.

"I see that you do. Perhaps you could speak to Filius? And perhaps see if he is free tomorrow night? In the meantime, I will have these memories copied and sent to the WCPS and the Auror division."

Professor Sprout nodded and stood to leave.

"Tristan, as it is past curfew for Fourth Years I think it would be best if you accompanied me back through the Floo and I will walk you from my office back to the Sett."

Tristan nodded and stood. He paused then gave Harry a quick hug, and followed Professor Sprout through the Floo.

Severus allowed Harry to sleep in his room that night instead of insisting he walk back to Slytherin. He knew the boy would have bad dreams that night and wanted to be close by. He would not allow himself to think on just how attached he had become to Harry in the few short weeks they had got to know each other. The boy's sharp sarcastic sense of humour matched his own, and he wondered now if some of the "cheek" he had always assumed was arrogance was actually humour.

Harry lay awake for a long time that night, and when he did sleep, it was thin and disturbed. He awoke the following morning to the smell of one of Tiggy's amazing breakfasts. He found Severus already at the table, nursing a cup of coffee. He knew his guardian well enough to not bother him until he had got through at least half the huge mug. They ate in companionable silence, breaking the quiet only with the sounds of cutlery and requests to pass the salt.

Harry walked to his lessons that morning with a smile and a spring in his step for the first time since returning to Hogwarts. As he neared the Transfiguration corridor, he heard Hermione arguing with Ron again. He couldn't hear everything they were saying, but as he approached parts became clearer.

"…just _talk_ to him Ronald! Honestly! He's not…"

"...is Hermione! How can I? He won't even look at me!"

"Possibly not, Weasley, however I can tell you for truth that he is _listening_ to you," drawled Draco from behind Harry.

As the two of them rounded the last turn of the corridor, they found Hermione and Ron, again red-faced and toe-to-toe, although looking at the colour of Ron's ears, he was embarrassed instead of angry.

"Who asked you Malfoy?" spat Ron. "What's it got to do with you?"

"Actually, he's a friend of mine Ron," said Hermione

"He's also my friend Ron," said Harry as he pushed past both of them.

Harry sat down in the classroom, listening to the argument continue outside without him. He could hear Hermione and Draco ganging up on Ron. Although he was pleased that they had put aside enough of their differences to talk to each other, he was a little upset that they had to stand together against someone Harry had considered a friend. He knew he had changed, and he knew it had come as a shock to his Gryffindor friends, but he had hoped, as Severus had said that true friends would stand by him and accept his new direction in life. With a rueful smile, he knew his high marks in all his subjects were a subject of irritation to Hermione, who didn't yet know that he had been drugged for the previous two years, impairing his learning.

The argument outside was broken up by the timely arrival of Professor McGonagall. She ushered the rest of the students into the classroom and closed the door. As the lesson began, Harry's mind began to wander. He knew the topic of today's class well; he had re-read his textbook on many occasions. While his magical knowledge progressed in leaps and bounds, both he and his guardian thought it better that he continued his magical education in the normal fashion, although his level of skill meant he could probably take his O.W.L.'s now rather than wait another two years. He roused himself briefly to answer a question about Switching spells, and correctly demonstrated how to switch the ears of a rabbit with those of a mouse, earning Slytherin five points. His mind drifted off again, thinking on what he had said to Professor Sprout the previous night. He knew that he and Tristan were not the only abused children living in Hogwarts walls, Marcus Flint had intimated as much during one of their many conversations in front of the Common room fire. Marcus also came from a troubled household, except that as a Pure-Blood, his punishments were not beatings or whippings, but bouts of Cruciatus and Bone-Breaking spells. Placing Harry in his care had not been accidental. Marcus had helped Harry to talk about what had happened, and helped him to settle in Slytherin; something that had been incredibly easy in the end. For the first time in his life, Harry felt that he _belonged_.

Severus paced in the House Council Chamber. The wards on the door had been moderately difficult to break, making him wonder further about the time when the meetings had stopped. He knew that the Meetings had stopped when he had joined Hogwarts following his defection from the Death Eaters. He had assumed the Meetings had stopped because he had joined the Faculty, but now he wondered if it had more to Harry than with him; a thought that chilled him to the bone. Convincing Minerva to agree to start holding these meetings again without the knowledge of the Headmaster had been fairly difficult. As Deputy Head, Minerva felt that Dumbledore ought to know, and it had taken some fast talking on his part as well as a few truths he had hoped to keep to himself until the meeting.

The Council Chamber was a comfortable room about the same size as his office, complete with fireplace and four large upholstered armchairs. Waving his wand, he changed the upholstery of one chair to black leather instead of the hideous floral pattern adorning the others. As the other Heads of House arrived, he Flooed the kitchens and requested tea. Filius and Pomona arrived together, with Minerva following closely behind. As they sat down, Severus read the inscription above the Floo.

"_In locum conciliare Quattour_"

The four walls glowed briefly in the four House colours and all the sounds of the school outside faded to nothing.

"I called this Meeting of the Four," said Severus, "because I think there are things happening at Hogwarts that the rest of you are unaware of. I will start with Mr Potter's re-sorting and work my way from there. My need to keep this meeting from the Headmaster will become evident."

Over an hour later, the four Heads of House left the room, three of them reeling in shock. All had a list of abused students in their house, as well as a list of signs to look for in the future. They would not be caught so unaware again.

_A/N: The inscription above the fireplace translates as "In this room, unite the Four"_


	12. Fudge

_A/N: I know it's been a while but I've had all sorts of medical problems. This story has never been far from my mind, and there is still a fair way to go. I know how it ends but not how we get there yet…continue with me for the journey? _

_Usual warnings, mentions of abuse, language etc and I own none of this you recognise._

The Great Hall resonated with the chatter of the school as they tucked into their dinner, Harry included. Sat between Marcus and Draco, he ploughed through a huge pile of roast beef and potatoes. Since reliving the abuse he had suffered all his life and having the memories copied for the purpose of prosecution, his appetite had returned in full force. Although he had known for several months that eating was allowed and that Severus believed him about the abuse, actually having something done about it had cemented it in his mind. He now had a responsible adult whom he could trust, who was going to look after him, who would keep him safe. As a result, even Marcus was surprised at how much more Harry was eating. The frail, skinny looking boy Severus had entrusted him with was starting to fill out and shoot upwards. Harry's puberty driven growth spurt had been delayed by mal-nutrition and physical violence, but now Harry was taller than Draco and developing broad, strong shoulders. It was a source of ribald amusement in Slytherin that Gryffindor may have lost their Seeker, but Slytherin had gained an excellent Beater. Not that Harry really wanted to play Quidditch any more, the child-like delight of being on a broomstick had faded somewhat. Instead, he would spend his spare time in the Room of Requirement, using it as a gym. For the first time in his life, muscles rippled under his skin and he was confident in his body.

That didn't stop him feeling apprehensive when the Headmaster stopped next to him on his way from the Hall.

"Harry my boy! Would you accompany me to my office? I believe there are a few things we need to talk about."

Looking around furtively, Harry couldn't see Severus and his heart sank – there was no escaping this. With a quick glance at Marcus, who acknowledged it with a minute nod; he left his place at the table and started walking with the Headmaster, feeling a little easier knowing that Marcus was going to try and find Severus.

Professor Dumbledore tried to engage Harry in light conversation regarding his lessons as they walked up to his office. Harry tried to keep his answers as non-committal as possible, but was eventually drawn into a debate regarding Ancient Runes, which Harry had taken instead Divination after talking to Severus. He sensed Dumbledore was mildly disappointed by this, the Headmaster indicated that his mother had taken Divination and that now Harry no longer needed to wear glasses, he looked more like his mother than ever.

As Dumbledore opened his office door and ushered Harry in, Harry realised his initial apprehension was warranted. Inside were four Aurors and the Minister for Magic, Cornelius Fudge. Dumbledore herded Harry into a chair in front of his desk and sat down.

"Now then Harry, these gentlemen would like to ask you some questions regarding the allegations you have made. We need to make sure the Pensieve memories you provided have not been altered. I'm afraid Cornelius doesn't trust our Potions Master as much as I, and wants to make sure they are accurate. There is also another issue that we wish to talk to you about, but that will keep until afterwards," Dumbledore turned to the Auror holding the blue Pensive containing memories. "If you would be so kind?"

Harry watched in horror as the Auror drew a short horizontal line with his wand and muttered something unintelligible, and something akin to a miniature movie screen appeared to unroll from the line. Knowing what was going to happen, Harry started to hyperventilate as a movie of his horrific life started to play for all to see. With a jolt, he remembered his watch and double-tapped his pocket with his hand and said "Severus".

With a hollow bang, a damp and half-shaven Severus appeared in the Headmaster's office wearing nothing but a towel and clutching his shaving razor in one hand and his watch in the other. It took him only seconds to take in the scene: Harry, on verge of fainting, and the screen in front of the boy, replaying Harry's worst moments for all to see.

"What the hell do you think you're playing at?" he shouted, wheeling round to the Aurors, ignoring Fudge.

"The Minister indicated to us that he had received information that these memories had been tampered with," one of the Aurors said woodenly. "We have to follow up on such information."

"Information from _you_ I suppose?" sneered Severus, glaring at Dumbledore. The Headmaster was paying him no attention however. His eyes were glued to the screen, mouth open in horror, as he saw for the first time just what Harry had been through. Severus' lip curled and he turned back to the Aurors. They were still stood paying no attention to anything going on in the room. He took two quick paces towards them and peered in their eyes, then turned to Fudge, twisted his arm up behind his back and retrieved the man's wand from the inside pocket of his robes. He waved it in the general direction of the two Aurors.

"Finite Incantatum."

The pair seemed to come to, taking in their surroundings with confused looks on their faces.

"You have been under the Imperious curse, and attempted to force an abuse victim into watching the legal Pensieve memories he provided for prosecution. The Minster cast the curse, I hope for his sake that he's under Imperio as well. I suggest you take him into custody and investigate this matter," said Severus.

One of the Aurors took Fudge's wand from Severus' outstretched hand and took the arm of the Minister.

"We were on our way to Hogwarts to warn Mr Potter that the escaped criminal Sirius Black has been sighted in the locality and that he should be on his guard. We believe that Black has escaped with the express purpose of doing Mr Potter some harm. The Minister was to accompany us to give further instructions to the Dementors guarding your gates. This will now be done by one of our colleagues following our return to the Ministry. As the boy's legal parent you will have been informed of this in advance…were you not?" asked the Auror watching the dawning anger on Severus' face.

"You mean that psychotic murdering excuse for a Godfather is after Harry? And I wasn't informed?" asked Severus, turning to Dumbledore, who now had his head in his hands, tears running down his face. "Legally he is my responsibility, and you didn't tell me he was in danger? Are you fucking mad?"

Dumbledore sighed. "Moderate your language Severus please, there is a child present."

"What?" Severus shouted. "You force him to watch the abuse he suffered, as if reliving it to provide the memories wasn't bad enough, and all you're worried about is a bit of profanity that every child over the age of eleven probably knows? You're losing the plot old man! First you hire the wolf to teach Defence and now this? You need your head examined! We're leaving now, we're going to go to my chambers, when you have formulated an apology to Harry that you think will stop him from unleashing the magical power he holds in anger against you, then by all means, join us."

With that, Severus put his arm round Harry's quivering shoulders and led him from the Headmaster's office. He knew this episode would put Harry back; the boy had only recently got over his fear of not being believed if he "told" and the incident would only bring that fear back if he was not careful. It wasn't until they were walking through the corridors on the second floor that the quiver in Harry's shoulders became more pronounced and he started to worry. Dragging Harry into the nearest empty classroom, he knelt down in front of the boy.

Harry had his eyes shut and his mouth was twisting. Thinking the boy was about to burst into tears, Severus conjured a handkerchief and presented it with a flourish.

"Here, let it all out," he said softly.

Harry opened his eyes, saw the handkerchief and let out a most un-Slytherin like snort, then brayed laughter like a five year old. As the laughter tapered off into giggles, Harry glanced at the completely perplexed look on his guardian's face, which set him off laughing again. Finally, he calmed himself, although the occasional snort still escaped him.

"I'm fine sir. Once you were there, I knew I was safe. You didn't see the look on the Headmaster's face when you arrived in only your towel…oh we need to get home so I can Pensieve it for you," Harry laughed again. "Um, perhaps you should transfigure your towel into some robes sir, if we meet any other students…"

"Point taken Mr Potter. Come, I think we have much to talk about, and unfortunately I think we need to talk to the wolf as well."

"The wolf sir? What do you mean? Can you talk to animals?"

"Let's get back to our chambers first, and then I'll tell you."

Severus retrieved his wand from the thigh holster he wore while showering and transfigured his white fluffy towel into more Snape-like black robes and the pair continued their trek to the dungeons.

Once the fire was going, the interrupted shaving complete and tea served, Harry repeated his questions.

Severus debated on how to tell this story, his school days were not his most stellar and would be hard for Harry to hear.

"I will be honest with you Harry, what I am about to tell you is not nice. I am not a nice person; I have done some terrible things. I like to think I have changed for the most part, but some things stay with you. It also perhaps explains a bit more why I treated you the way I did for your first two years here.

Harry sat and listened with growing unease at the tale Severus told. It was one of love and loss, how the only bright thing in his guardian's life was taken from him by an arrogant bully and how one word ruined a friendship that was rocky at best. Severus had been friends with his mother Lily, from before they started Hogwarts; but that as a Slytherin, he had become a target for James Potter and his friends. He was everything Potter wasn't: poor, scruffy half-blood from Manchester. As an adult, Severus had accepted that Sirius had been the instigator, but Potter had always played along. He told of the terror of finding a werewolf at the end of the tunnel Black had baited him about, and his bitterness that it was Potter he owed his life to for pulling him out its way. And he told of the fateful day when Potter's boredom had inspired Black to turn him upside down to show the school his worn underwear. In his anger and humiliation, he had called Lily a Mudblood and she had never forgiven him. He was courted by some influential older Slytherins because of his Potions and Dark Arts skills, and at seventeen had been branded by Voldemort as a Death Eater. He heard half of a prophecy concerning someone destined to destroy the Dark Lord and had duly reported his knowledge. When he found who Voldemort had decided was the threat – Lily Potter and her baby, he had pleaded for her life. When no guarantees were made, he turned to Dumbledore, he humbled and humiliated himself in front of the only wizard who dared to stand up to Voldemort and pleaded for her life again. Dumbledore had promised to save her and taken on the young Death Eater as Potions Master and as spy in Voldemort's ranks, making him a double agent. When Harry had banished the Dark Lord following Lily's sacrifice, Severus stayed at Hogwarts, safe from prosecution while under Dumbledore's protection, waiting for Harry to come to Hogwarts so he could fulfil his private oath to Lily's memory to protect her son.

Severus paused in his monologue to try and discern Harry's reaction. Shock was the main expression on the young wizard's face, but a certain amount of anger was visible too. Severus had learnt quickly that the slight narrowing of the eyes and tightness round the mouth meant the boy was furious. Bracing himself for a tirade, Severus was surprised when Harry spoke.

"She never forgave you? That's disgusting! Even Hermione has forgiven Draco for when he said it last year and she holds grudges for ages!" Harry paused. "James was a bully and reminds me of Uncle Vernon. Professor Lupin is the werewolf isn't he?"

"Yes, he is. In your father's defence, he did save my life from Lupin when he was transformed. The advances in the Wolfsbane Potion were not available when we were at school, so he was dangerous at the time, something both Potter and Black knew. He also died in defence of his wife and son. He was a spoilt brat at school but he grew up, Harry. He did not die a bully – he died defending those he loved. However, that did not stop me treating you like a carbon copy of him when I first saw you, for which I have no excuse."

"I don't remember him. The only thing I have is an image given by the Mirror of Erised." The room was starting to thrum with magic; a vibration both recognised, but Harry continued, his voice rising over the noise, "a father is someone to care for you, help and heal you. Someone to come running when you're in trouble and make you safe again. They said you were legally my parent, you're my father now!"

Before Severus was caught up in the maelstrom of magic Harry released, he had a moment's amusement – that rumbling sound: was it magic or the sound of James Potter spinning in his grave? But then coherent thought was impossible in the storm of magic emanating from Harry. With a final roar of indescribable sound, the two of them were left standing in the living room, both unsure as to what had actually happened.

"Well at least you haven't destroyed anything this time Harry," said Severus with a smirk, "although I don't know what you actually have done. That wasn't anger that time was it?"

"No sir," replied Harry, although he looked unwilling to elaborate.

Deciding that pushing Harry for answers wouldn't be productive, Severus tapped the teapot and poured another cup for each of them. Before both were settled on the sofa again, there was a chime from the portrait door. Opening the door, Severus snarled at the visitor.

"What do you want Lupin?"

"Well Severus, after that rather impressive display of magic, I thought I ought to make sure you were both alright," replied the Defence teacher, ducking under Snape's outstretched arm. "Harry! How are you? I just wanted to…" Lupin tailed off looking confused.

"Severus, may I speak privately with you?" asked Lupin, his nose twitching.

"Harry is aware of your…_condition_ Lupin, get on with it," snapped Severus.

"Ah, I see. Right. His scent has changed. I mean, every person is made up from genetic and magical material from their parents. Their scent is also influenced by their own unique magic. He no longer smells much like James. It's still there, but he smells like you, Severus. I am aware you are his guardian, but I would strongly suggest you check the status of that relationship with the Ministry. I know you don't like me Severus, but do you think we can put our old differences aside for Harry? I know Sirius is on the loose, I'm as happy about that as you are I suspect."

With a glance at Harry, Severus shook the werewolf's proffered hand.

"Fine. Just don't expect a Yule card."

Lupin laughed. "No, but then I doubt many people would from you Severus. I also wanted to offer to teach Harry the Patronus Charm early. I know he wasn't on the train when the Dementors boarded it on the way here in September, but if he comes in contact with them, he will be susceptible to their powers due to his ah…history. Students aren't taught even the theory until fifth year usually and most people never master it at all, but I think in this case it's warranted."

After a brief discussion of the effect of Dementors – the feeling of helplessness and their ability to make a person only recall the bad things in one's life, Harry realised the very real threat the Dementors posed to him, and to others in his situation. If he could learn this charm, perhaps he and Marcus could teach it to other abused Slytherins, he could teach it to Tristan and he could teach it to others…

Arrangements were made for Severus and Harry to meet Professor Lupin in the Room of Requirement to following evening for the first lesson. Lupin knew where there was a Boggart and intended to use that for Harry to practice against. While Severus had his reservations, he was willing to work with Lupin for the sake of Harry's safety.

It was noted by both wizards that the Headmaster did not appear that evening to apologise.


	13. Lupin

_A/N: Two chapters in a day…don't get used to it, but I had inspiration this morning and just had to get this out of my head before it exploded. Usual warnings, I own nothing etc._

Severus paced in his office. He had express-owled the department where his relationship with Harry was recorded, and was now awaiting their reply. He knew Harry was waiting for him in the Room of Requirement for his first lesson in tackling the Patronus Charm. Severus was fairly confident that Harry would master it fairly quickly – the boy's magical powers were immense after all. The only stumbling block would be whether he could focus clearly on a happy memory; Merlin knew the boy had so few.

With a pop, Tiggy appeared, clutching the scroll he had been waiting for. The elf was nearly blue with cold after waiting in the Owlery for her Master's reply. Severus grabbed the scroll, read it and let out a most undignified, un-Snape-like squeak of surprise. Although stiff with cold, Tiggy clicked her fingers to make a chair zoom across the room to position itself behind Severus as his legs buckled beneath him.

"He…oh gods…that boy…he's…oh fuck," Severus couldn't articulate what he was reading and thrust the scroll at the shivering elf.

"Oh my! Well, you had better find him hadn't you? I'll do something special for dinner. Go on then, off you go!" she said sternly as Severus still sat, as if glued to the chair.

Numbly, he nodded and stumbled his way out of his chambers to the seventh floor. Tiggy smiled, she could sense the boy's magic probably better than any other being and had known something like this would happen eventually, although it was sooner than she had anticipated. Humming to herself, she skipped into the kitchen to produce dinner.

By the time Severus had climbed up to the seventh floor from the dungeons, he had composed himself somewhat. Walking past the ridiculous tapestry illustrating dancing trolls, he thought of the room Lupin had described. When the door appeared, he strode in and found Lupin and Harry already there, having started without him.

"Severus! Sorry we started without you, you don't object I trust?" said Lupin

Severus completely ignored him and knelt down in front of Harry.

"Do you know what you did yesterday Harry? Not how, but actually what you did?"

"No sir, I don't," replied Harry, starting to look worried.

"You made your own Bonder-less Wizard Oath," said Severus, his voice shaking. "You were registered as my ward when I made my Oath, look at what the documents say now," he said holding out the scroll.

Harry took the scroll and unrolled it.

It took Harry a while to work out what the scroll said, the actual content was dressed up in what Ron would call "curly language". When it dawned, he blushed.

_"Hereafter let it be recorded that with compassion and courage Severus Tobias Snape took Guardianship of Harry James Potter via Oath. He Guards his charge from all harm with his strength and his magic. With love and loyalty, Harry James has adopted Severus Tobias Snape as his _magicalis anima patris_ via Oath. He defends his father with his strength and his magic. This tome records the familial bond created between Severus and Harry Snape."_

"Father?"

"Yes, Harry. I effectively adopted you, and last night, you adopted me. I knew that burst of your magic wasn't anger, but you knew what it was didn't you? After what I'd told you about Lily, you didn't want to say, but it was love wasn't it?"

Harry blushed a little more and gave a minute nod.

Severus abandoned all his control and pulled the boy into a rough hug. Wrapping his arms around the boy's back he murmured into his ear.

"I never thought I'd have a son, I'm glad I have now."

Lupin cleared his throat from behind them, making both Snapes jump – both had forgotten he was there in the revelation of their new bond.

Severus jumped to his feet and straightened his robes.

"If you breathe a word of this, wolf, I will hound you out of the country!" growled Severus.

"A word of what? That you are actually human and have feelings? Give me some credit Severus, please," replied Lupin with a small smile. "I knew last night, and nobody would believe me anyway."

With a harsh bark of laughter, Severus realised Lupin was quite right, the only people who perhaps would take any notice were those who would find out anyway: the other three House Heads.

"Shall we get started?" asked Lupin. "Harry and I had only got as far as the wand movement. Are you able to produce a Patronus Severus? People with Dark associations are not usually capable due to soul damage, but your soul is still whole."

"I doubt it Lupin, not after what I did in my youth. I have never tried to produce a Patronus, I didn't see the point," said Severus, his joy fading.

It was Harry who realised he was wrong, and piped up before Lupin could speak.

"My Latin is not as good as it should be, but if I read this right Sir, I have made you the magical father of my soul. If yours was damaged, I couldn't do that could I?"

"Not just _his_ soul Severus. Harry has it nearly right. Magical Soul Father…your souls are bonded now; in the way that Harry and James would have been had he lived. Do you have an Animagus form Severus?"

"No, although I had got as far as the potion to illustrate your inner animal form, mine was a black Cobra."

"Forgive me for this, Severus, I suspect your Patronus will be of the same form as Lily's. I know you were in love with her; I was not as blind as my friends. Hers was a doe…to match James' stag," he added quietly. "People who have completed the Animagus transformation tend to end up with their animal as their Patronus although not always. Minerva's cat Patronus even has the spectacle markings her Animagus form displays."

"The incantation is _Expecto __Patronum._ While focussing on that, you must concentrate hard on a happy, powerful memory. Most people don't ever master this spell, it is advanced magic, but both of you have the power to make Bonder-less Oaths so sheer power will not be a problem. Close your eyes and concentrate on a happy memory. When ready, open your eyes and say the incantation. Shout it if it helps, I found it did when I first learned this."

Harry did as he was told and produced a thin silvery wispy vapour from his wand on his third attempt. When questioned, his memory had proved not "strong" enough for Lupin's liking, Harry had picked the first time he rode a broom. When he opened his eyes the second time there was a sheen of tears visible and when he yelled the incantation this time, a bright silver vapour poured from his wand and coiled around itself.

Initially all of them thought it was another non-corporeal Patronus, until Severus noticed it flicking its tongue at him and looked closer.

"It's me!" he blurted, before collecting himself. "I mean, that is a smaller version of the black Cobra the potion showed me when I was doing my Animagus training, the Cobra my form would have been, had I completed my tutelage."

Severus watched the Cobra coil in and around itself, tasting the air and flicking its tail. Then the real meaning came to him. Harry had produced a fully corporeal Patronus on his fourth attempt; something unheard of, given the wizard in question was barely three months over his thirteenth birthday. The boy's power was immense. His son was a very powerful wizard. His _son_.

With that thought, Severus closed his eyes and yelled, "EXPECTO PATRONUM!" at the top of his voice.

"Oh wow," he heard Harry say, the awe evident in his voice. "Isn't he a beauty?"

Severus opened his eyes and looked at the physical evidence disproving all his thoughts of how damaged his soul had become over the years as a Death Eater spy. His soul was complete, as evidenced by the rather impressively large Cobra Patronus now coiling around Harry's smaller one.

"What was your memory Harry?" asked Severus.

Harry blushed again. "My first hug from my father," he said quietly, still watching the two snakes coil around one another. "Yours?"

"The fact that I am a father."

Harry and Severus left the Room of Requirement in a happy daze, barely noticing Lupin's farewell. They walked slowly down to the dungeons and stopped in front of the portrait door. Harry's nose twitched, even out here, he could smell the unmistakable smell of cooking shellfish and saffron.

Restraining Harry from bolting through the door to get to the wonders he knew Tiggy had produced, Severus spoke to the wizard in the portrait.

"Professor Arcturius, I have mentioned this boy to you before, my ward Harry. By a pair of Bonder-less Oaths, we are now Father and Son. I'd like you to take a note of his magical signature, he has the freedom to come and go as he pleases, unless I have said otherwise."

Severus moved aside so Harry could see the man in the portrait more clearly. He was still on his chaise longue, but had sat up in interest to what Severus had said.

"A son eh? Good for you Snape. What's your animal boy?"

"I don't have one sir, they don't teach us that yet. My Patronus is a Cobra though."

"Polite at least, but a Patronus at your age? Impressive, yes very impressive. Mine was an Asp, much to Kenzia's displeasure," he said stroking the head of his Panther. "I've heard from other portraits you speak the tongue of your new house boy. As a gift to bless your newly founded family I will grant you some knowledge that has been lost for centuries. For knowledge begets wisdom and is that not the greatest gift one can give? When you speak Parsletongue, nobody except those who speak it understand you do they? Most people who have had the ability in the last few centuries have been Dark and therefore unable to produce a Patronus so this has been lost. If you speak to your Patronus in Parsletongue, it can pass a message to another with a snake Patronus, when they cast their Patronus, it can interpret the message; translate it if you will. None except the recipient of your message will be able to understand what is said. My congratulations to both of you."

Harry placed his hand on the portrait at Severus' direction and when he removed it, a faint glowing outline of his hand remained. Severus thanked Professor Arcturius and they entered the rooms. The smell of garlic, saffron and seafood assaulted them and set their stomachs rumbling.

Harry made a beeline for the table and sat down in anticipation of the wonders to arrive. Sure enough as soon as Severus was seated, Tiggy brought out the food. Grilled langoustine with garlic butter and salad, followed by crab ravioli in a saffron, chilli and cream sauce. Although both wizards insisted they were full, both managed a portion of lemon cheesecake before admitting defeat.

They roused themselves from the table and made it as far as the sofa, relaxing in front of the fire, stuffed with Tiggy's wonderful cooking. Both dozed off before they made it to bed, much to her amusement. Locating Severus' camera was hard, but the effort was worth it. By the time she returned, Harry had curled against his father's side and Severus had draped a protective arm around him, both still snoring contentedly. It would be a beautiful family portrait.

Neither wizard were woken by the alarms later that night as Sirius Black tried to rip his way through the Fat Lady into Gryffindor Tower.

_A/N: I have assumed that Sirius either doesn't know or doesn't believe Harry has been re-sorted. Obviously I have taken liberties with Snape's Patronus. My thoughts are thus: people's Patronuses can change, as evidenced by Tonks. He has just discovered that Harry now considers him as a father and has taken Oath to prove it. Harry's Patronus reflects his "new" father rather than his genetic one and Snape has taken his lead from Harry. Harry's show of love i.e. his Cobra Patronus and the Oath provide Snape with enough joy to produce a Patronus on first attempt, its form a larger, adult version of the same snake Harry produced. Clear as mud? _


	14. Hogwarts

_A/N: Following a couple of comments made re Sirius, I thought I ought to clarify. I know he broke into Gryffindor after the rat, I just wanted it clear that he has no idea that Harry wouldn't be there. Mentions of abuse, I own nothing, as you well know._

Severus was woken by Tiggy shaking his shoulder urgently. Unfortunately for the house elf, Severus' instincts were finely honed and his unthinking initial reaction was to try and stun the poor creature. Her magic deflected the strike, and his favourite vase suffered the consequences, shattering into thousands of fragments.

"Oh for pity's sake! Is everything I own destined to be destroyed?" he grumbled. "My apologies Tiggy, you know my reactions."

"Yes Master Potions Master Sir. Headmaster Dumbledore wishes you and Harry to report to him Sir, Sirius Black has tried to break into Master Harry's former House."

Groggy from sleep and stiff from falling asleep sitting up, Severus got to his feet and moved to wake Harry. With the warmth of Severus no longer next to him, Harry was already starting to wake. Smirking at the bleary look on the teenager's face, Severus held out his hand to help him up.

"Come Mr Potter…"

"Snape!" interrupted Harry.

"Indeed. That will take some getting used to, I assure you; not least because it is so unexpected. Did the headmaster tell you anything of the criminal Sirius Black?"

"No Sir, I only know what I heard from the Auror in the Headmaster's office. He said he was after me." Harry paused for thought. "When you shouted at the Headmaster, you said he was my godfather?"

"Yes Harry, James named Black as your godfather before you were even born. This story is best left for another time, but I will give you the short version before we see the Headmaster. Your parent's location was Secret Kept, a complex charm which hides a secret within a person. Only the Secret Keeper can divulge the secret, if the Dark Lord was to walk past your parent's house he would have no idea they were there. Black was your parent's Secret Keeper and betrayed them to the Dark Lord. One of their friends, Peter Pettigrew, cornered Black in a street after the attack on your family; Black blasted the street apart, killing Pettigrew and fourteen Muggles. All Pettigrew's mother got back was a finger and his Order of Merlin. This summer, he escaped from Azkaban, apparently intent on tracking you down. In his deranged state, he probably believes killing you will re-instate the Dark Lord to his former power."

"And nobody thought I ought to know?" asked Harry, anger evident in his voice.

"Apparently not, although I was under the mistaken impression that you had been informed of all this already," answered Severus uneasily. Harry had every right to be angry; however an angry Harry was a dangerous Harry, as the scorch marks on his bookshelves showed. "Come Mr Po…Snape, we have kept the Headmaster waiting long enough."

With that, Severus grabbed some Floo Powder and threw it in the fire. When the pair emerged from the fireplace in the Headmaster's office, they were greeted with the sight of a very upset McGonagall berating Dumbledore for allowing Black to get into the Castle.

"My cubs are terrified Albus! A known murderer tried to break into their Tower – wouldn't you be frightened?"

"Of course Minerva. However, hysteria is not going to help us find him is it? I want the castle searched again, starting from the Astronomy Tower and the cellars under the dungeons, meeting on the ground floor. Minerva if you could co-ordinate with Filius as your Houses are in the towers, Severus if you would work with Pomona. Mr Filch will be with Hagrid searching the grounds; I have already asked the elves to search the kitchens and the cellars they use for storage. Harry can stay here with me Severus," added Dumbledore, as Severus turned to leave with Harry.

"I don't think so Headmaster," said Snape curtly and left quickly before Dumbledore could object further. Hurrying down the stone stair from the Headmaster's office, Severus muttered to Harry, "I think you're safer searching the castle with myself and Professor Sprout than sat with him."

"Thank you sir," said Harry, profoundly relieved at not having to spend more time than necessary in the Headmaster's presence.

The search revealed nothing, and the school was eventually bedded down in the Great Hall, under the watchful eyes of the Faculty. Owing perhaps to the sleep he had managed to get after dinner; Harry was wide awake and couldn't settle, despite being within touching distance of Snape, who was sat in a high backed armchair playing chess against Tiggy. Crawling carefully out of his sleeping bag, Harry sat up and watched the game. Neither player was touching their pieces, but using wandless magic to move them around the board. Even knowing how powerful Snape was, and that Elf magic was very different from Wizard magic, seeing this display of effortless wandless magic used for such an inconsequential purpose was impressive.

Severus raised an eyebrow at Harry watching the game, but seemed to understand his inability to sleep. He felt the same after all, the reason he has requested the first watch. His thoughts turned to Black. One of his childhood nemeses was back, and this time, he was after not Severus himself, but his newly adopted son. The flash of rage that followed that thought was enough to elicit a growl from him, startling both Harry and Tiggy.

Harry reflexively scuttled back to his sleeping bag in fear, but halted when he heard Tiggy's giggle.

"You sound like a bear that sat on a thorn Master!"

Harry smiled weakly. He knew without a doubt that Severus wouldn't hurt him, but the instinct to run and hide when someone was angry was so deeply ingrained he didn't know if he would ever be able to lose it. He wasn't sure he wanted to.

Severus sighed. He realised he had scared Harry, but had no idea how to reassure the boy without making him feel uncomfortable.

Minerva relieved him of his watch half an hour later, by which time Severus had formulated a plan. He could see Harry was still not asleep, so as he passed his sleeping bag between Marcus and Draco, he stopped and knelt down.

"I'm going to the library; would you like to join me? I know you are unable to sleep, as am I," he said quietly, holding out his hand.

With a quick look at the two boys either side of him, Harry nodded and allowed Severus to help him to his feet. They walked quietly through the school to the second floor. Although the library usually closed for the night at eight, the lights were still on when the two Snapes arrived. Upon entering, it was clear Severus was not the only Head of House unable to sleep after the evening's disruption. Sat at the largest table in the middle of the main room of the library were Professors Sprout and Flitwick, surrounded by piles of books. The tiny Charms professor also had several orbiting his head, seemingly in some form of holding pattern, waiting for some space to land.

"Severus! Excellent, we could do with your help," exclaimed Flitwick. "Pomona, Minerva and I are researching the wards around Hogwarts to see if we could discover how Black managed to gain access to the Grounds and then into the Castle herself. That way we can hopefully stop him doing so again."

"The idea has merit, however I believe most of the pertinent information will be in the Headmaster's Library, which only opens for the incumbent Headmaster; we will not be able to gain access."

"Something we had already realised Severus. However as staff we all help to set the wards every summer, so each of us has a small portion of the knowledge we need. I, for example set variations of the _cave __inimicum_, and _protego __horribilis_. In combination they prevent anyone with ill intent from entering the Grounds. Pomona has many beds of Screechsnap plants and honking daffodils round the border of the wards, and I know you place the anti-disapparation jinx every year, as well as the stealth sensoring spell," said Filius. He continued with a smile for the Potions Master, "and knowing you as I do, I would bet several galleons that you are responsible for the Stinging Hex on the gates."

With a proud smirk, Severus nodded. "And Minerva? What is her contribution?" he asked.

"Minerva's contribution is mostly defensive within the Castle walls. The armour and most of the furniture is under passive transfiguration spells that only require the appropriate activation spells to trigger."

"And the Headmaster?"

"That is what we are trying to ascertain Severus," said Professor Sprout from behind the heap of books in front of her, "so that we can discover just how an escaped criminal can get all the way to the Fat Lady before the alarm being raised."

Severus and Harry sat down with them and pulled over several books. It took several hours and multiple notes on the board Severus had conjured before the four of them developed a plan. Filius was going to add several variation spells to the ones he had placed during the summer months, and Pomona was going to re-locate several of the Venomous Tentaculas currently growing in the greenhouses and give double doses of dragon dung fertilizer to her honking daffodils. Severus had several potions ideas in mind, mostly to identify potential threats to the Castle rather anything overtly offensive. Rousing himself from the book he was currently reading, he looked over the top of it at Harry, who was sitting opposite him not looking at the book he held in his hands. His eyes were wide and staring, not looking at anything or paying attention to anyone around him. Worried, Severus stood quickly, upsetting the teetering heap of books on the edge of the table. Even the resulting crash didn't rouse Harry. Three swift paces brought Severus to Harry's side. Before he could ask Harry what was wrong, however, the boy spoke.

"Show her a picture of him."

"Show who Harry? Who are you talking about?"

"Hogwarts. She's concerned. Show her a picture and she will recognise him if he tries again."

Severus was speechless. It had long been theorised that Hogwarts Castle had some form of sentience – for example, in an emergency the stairs would align to form the quickest route for the staff to the problem. However nobody, not even Headmasters had been able to make contact. Apparently Harry had done so without even trying.

"Pomona, find an image of Black and show it to…" Severus paused, completely out of his depth. "Harry, how do we show Hogwarts a picture?"

"The main doors. She will watch all the entrances to the Castle, even the ones you don't know about."

A piece of parchment appeared from thin air and fluttered down to the stunned professors.

"It's a list of the wards surrounding Hogwarts from the Headmasters Library, she hopes it will help."

Harry then slumped to one side, and would have fallen from his chair if Severus had not caught him. He lowered Harry to the floor and did a quick diagnostic charm.

"Magical exhaustion. Given his power levels, that explains why none has managed to communicate with the Castle directly. Nobody has had the sheer magical strength to be able to do so before."

Severus picked up the limp form, struggling more now than he had before term had started; the boy was growing at an impressive rate now that he eating and exercising properly. Shifting Harry into a more comfortable position, he nodded to Spout and Flitwick.

"Start looking over that list and try to find the loophole Black is using. I'm sure there are plenty of pictures of Black around the place; _The__Daily__Prophet_ seems to run a new story on him everyday. One of you go and show it to the main doors."

With that, Severus left the Library carrying Harry.

When Harry awoke, he could smell bacon. Opening his eyes, he realised he was in his own bed in their quarters, rather than in his dorm in Slytherin. Wondering why he was not in his dorm, he dressed and shuffled into the living room. He was greeted by Severus, who was grading essays at his desk. He waved Harry over to the sofa and indicated that he should address himself to the pile of bacon sandwiches waiting on the table.

"How do you feel Harry?" asked Severus once Harry had eaten his fill.

"Fine Sir. Why am I here instead of in the Slytherin dorm?"

"Because Harry, you have been asleep for over twenty-four hours. It is Thursday afternoon; you have been asleep since about midnight Tuesday evening. You apparently managed to make contact with the sentient mind of the castle, causing magical exhaustion."

"The tall lady I was speaking to?"

"Tall lady? We saw nobody in the Library with us that night. What did you see?"

"She was a tall, grandiose lady, wearing this long flowing cloak. She spoke to me and asked for a picture of the man after me. She said she would sound the alarm if he entered the Castle again." Harry smiled. "She said she would look after me."

"Could you draw her? I'd be interested to see the personification of the Castle. To see her as she sees herself."

Harry shook his head. "I can't draw very well Sir. Can you? You could just…y'know…_look_ and then draw her."

"You know full well I do not use my Legimency skills lightly Harry, I don't think my curiosity warrants it. However, it seems you have forgotten that we still have a Pensieve at our disposal."

Harry blushed and smiled a little ruefully. With a flick of his wand, Severus Summoned the currently empty Pensieve. Harry extracted the memory as Severus rummaged around in the voluminous drawers in his desk for sketch pad and pencils. He had been an avid artist in his youth, although he had not used his skills for many years.

The image the Pensieve showed was of an elegant, aristocratic looking woman. Her cloak depicted the four House badges, each badge sat on a square quartered into the four House colours. Her robes were of a soft grey, not unlike the stone that made up the Castle walls. She had a severe look about her face, but she smiled as she spoke to Harry.

Before Severus could even finish sketching her outline, the Floo chimed, indicating that someone was requesting to come through. Severus strode to the fireplace, and removed the wards, allowing him to see who. Professor Flitwick spoke through the flames.

"Severus! Can I come through?"

"Of course."

Severus stepped back to allow the diminutive man through. Once he landed, however, he started hopping from one foot to another.

"That list Severus, Pomona and I have found it! The only possible way Black could have got into the Castle. We need to talk to Remus, he would be able to verify, I'm sure."

"Verify what Filius?"

"That Black is an Animagus! Unregistered obviously. The wards allow animals to pass at will, but do not take Animagi into account. If Black is an Animagus, it would also explain how he escaped Azkaban in the first place – the Dementors would not notice the less complex emotions of an animal, if he was thin enough to slip through the bars of his cell…"

"They would never notice. It's plausible certainly." Severus paused to throw some Floo powder in the fireplace. "Lupin! Get your mangy flea-ridden arse down here this instant!"

Lupin exited the Floo looked a little bedraggled. Evidently he had been interrupted in the midst of changing out of his teaching robes – he was only wearing one sock and while he had his shirt done up, it had been done so hurriedly, he had missed several buttons and the ones that were done up were in the wrong button holes.

"What is it Severus, what's happened? Is it Harry? What…"

Severus cut Lupin off by lifting the man by his neck and pushing him against a wall.

"Shut up and listen to me wolf!" he gave Lupin a little shake. "Is Black an Animagus?"

Lupin's eyes darted this way and that, before he sighed and seemed to collapse in on himself.

"He takes the form of a big black dog – his namesake. They all were: they did it to keep me company."

"And you thought that nobody needed to know this? He broke into the school to attack my son and you didn't think to tell someone? What do you mean they all did?"

"It took them three years, but by the time we were in fifth year, James and Sirius had managed the transformation. They had to help Peter, but that year they would accompany me each time I transformed. It helped me keep my mind to an extent. I was so grateful for what they had done I didn't think of just how dangerous and stupid they had been, learning without expert guidance."

"Enough reminiscing wolf! We've found a loophole in the wards. Black can get into the Castle in his Animagus form."

"What were their forms? James and Peter?" questioned Harry from the sofa.

Severus turned angrily, before realising that Harry had no knowledge of his parents and their friends. All had assumed that Petunia would have at least given Harry Lily's scrapbooks and correspondence, so he would have at least _some_ idea about the Wizarding world and the lives of his parents. He looked at Lupin and raised an eyebrow, indicating that the question should be answered.

"Peter was a brown rat, James was a stag. We gave ourselves nicknames: Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot and Prongs." Lupin sighed. "More innocent times."

"Speak for yourself Lupin, I have not forgotten that Black tried to murder me when he was sixteen!" growled Severus.

Lupin, however was not listening. His eyes had a wide faraway look, and he was muttering to himself.

"I wonder. Where would it be? Hmmm."

"Remus? Where would what be?" asked Flitwick, who had been watching some sort of inspiration dawn on the Defence professor's face.

"The Map. We made a map, enchanted; it showed everything, secret passages, people. It saw through disguises and charms, even Polyjuice. I'd forgotten all about it, but if we can find it, we can use it to locate Sirius if he steps foot, or paw, on the grounds again. I wouldn't know where to start looking for it though."

Harry laughed. "Are you kidding? A map that shows where everybody is, a map with secret passages on it, a perfect tool for mischief making, who would love to have something like that?"

The three professors looked at each other and said in chorus,

"The Weasley twins."

_A/N: If anyone is artistically inclined, I'd love someone to draw Hogwarts in her cloak of four houses. I can write but I can't draw – graphically, I'm about as talented as a squashed packet of crisps :-)_

_Defensive __charms: _cave inimicum _is __the __Intruder __Charm, _protego horribilis _is __a __powerful __shield __against __dark __magic._


	15. Trelawney

_A/N: I know it's been a while, but I've reached the end of what I had mapped out, so it's going to be slow(er) from hereon. Apologies, but I still have to work and earn a living, much as I'd like not to. I'm hoping to have another chapter up before the end of the week, but be patient with me._

"Messrs Weasley, stay behind," barked Snape at the end of his fifth year potions class the following day. He pleaded with Albus every year to stop putting Gryffindor and Slytherin together for potions, and every year the meddlesome old coot insisted that it was "character building". Severus was unsure whether the old man meant for the students or for him, however once OWLs were out of the way he was only left with those who genuinely _wanted_ to study potions. A rather large part of him hoped that the Weasley twins would not do so, if only for the sake of his sanity. The pair always managed to complete their written assignments to the highest standard, but their class-work always managed to get spilt or botched in ways he could not fathom, especially as it would be Vanished before he could get a good look or take a sample. His barked order to stay behind was not therefore of much notice to the rest of the class, who had fled at the first opportunity.

The red headed menaces were now standing innocently (_too innocently_ his traitorous mind supplied) in front of his desk, waiting for their next round of detentions cleaning up failed potions from lower years.

"Detention tonight with Professor Lupin, seven pm, do not be late." Severus waved his hand in dismissal without even looking up.

Exchanging grins at the thought of being let off lightly, the twins dashed out of the classroom quickly in case Snape changed his mind.

Severus smirked and went to Floo Lupin to let him know that the twins would be visiting for detention that evening. Lupin grimaced but nodded; this kind of thing rankled his Gryffindor soul, something he had pointed out to the potions Master the night before; he had been expecting to just go and ask for the Map back. It had been Harry that pointed out that for all their Gryffindorishness, the twins really would have done well in Slytherin, and that charging in like a hippogriff in a china shop would not help in this case. Reluctantly, Lupin had agreed, bowing to Harry's better knowledge of the trouble-making pair.

Harry sat in the Great Hall, eating his way through a large plate of chicken stew for lunch. As the weather turned progressively colder, his desire for warming food increased. His current favourite was bacon pudding, although the elves at Hogwarts had obviously not had his culinary teaching (which had mostly involved a frying pan round the head when he got it wrong) and he felt it could do with more sage round the onions. Today's fare of stew with dumplings was a close second however he decided, chewing happily. He reflected that from someone who always used to be pathetically grateful to be fed at all, he now had the confidence to have favourites and to request them of Tiggy at the weekends. Looking at his timetable, he had a free period before Transfiguration and decided to put it to good use in the Room of Requirement having a workout. He chased the last of the delicious gravy round his bowl with a bread crust and stood to leave the Hall. The touch on his arm caused his to round on the person behind him, his wand in his hand before he was aware of what he was doing.

"Harry! Harry, it's only me," cried Marcus with some alarm, holding his hands up, away from his wand. "You're still not allowed to go anywhere without either Draco or myself, I was just going to ask you where you were going," said the older boy, still eyeing Harry's wand warily.

Harry looked down and realising he still had his wand pointed at Marcus, first lowered it, then sheathed it in his wand holster.

"Room of Requirement. After all that suet, I need a workout. Want to join me?"

Marcus consulted his timetable, and then nodded. Walking out of the Great Hall, the pair were accosted by Ginny Weasley.

"Harry! Harry wait up!...Thanks," she said as the pair slowed to allow her to catch up with them. "Are you going to talk to my brother? He's miserable without you, you know."

"Ginny, as far as I'm concerned, there is nothing wrong with me and Ron except that I'm now a Slytherin. For reasons I'm not ready to explain yet," he added hurriedly, seeing the question form in her eyes. Had he really been this easy to read as a Gryffindor? He could practically see her next two sentences forming, just by watching her face. She was going to ask when he would be ready, as if he knew already; and whether he was actually happy with Snape of all people. "No, I don't know when I'll be ready to explain. If ever. And yes, I am happy with Professor Snape, he makes me feel safe in a way that I suspect you and nearly everybody else takes for granted."

Ginny opened her mouth, and then closed it. "I can see why you fit so well in Slytherin," she said with a small, sad smile. "Does the ability to read minds come with the green trim round your robes?" she asked, trying to lighten the situation. "Never mind, I have to go Harry," she said, before he could come up with a witty reply. "We all miss you."

"Not all of you I suspect," replied Harry with a frown, turning away from her, not liking the direction the conversation had taken. As such, none but Marcus heard the whispered reply.

"I miss you."

The workout did Harry the power of good. He hadn't realised how much harder he could push himself with someone else there to encourage him and to spot him on the weights. Marcus had initially looked around the mostly Muggle gym with doubt, but after some light-hearted needling from Harry, he had tried one of the weights machines only to be pleasantly surprised. He didn't need to ask why Harry was building physical muscle instead of spell practice. The rumours that were flying of a nameless fear in dark forests, his father's behaviour, and the escape of one of the Dark Lord's servants, Sirius Black, from Azkaban prison told their own story. The war was coming and Harry needed to be ready. A wizard's spell casting power was not dependant on his physical fitness, but if his power was great (and by all accounts Harry's was), then his _control_ of that power was governed, to an extent by the ability of his body. The stronger the body, the greater the control. Perhaps why Professor Snape was continually underestimated, given his wiry build.

Marcus' thoughts were interrupted by the alarm charm he had set before they started, indicating that he and Harry had just enough time for a shower before their next lesson.

Harry jogged to Transfiguration, his spirits high. There was something wonderful about feeling fit, about the adrenaline coursing through his body as he came down slowly from the high of a strenuous workout. He said goodbye to Marcus at the door, the older boy taking off at a faster pace than considered seemly for a Slytherin, his next class was three floors up and late slips were not dealt with lightly by Professor Snape. Bouncing into the empty classroom, Harry took his seat and reviewed his notes to remind himself of which topic they were doing today. It appeared to be the ever-present porcupines into pincushions. While still limited by the potion Dumbledore had been giving him, Harry's pincushions had been perfect except their tendency to run into a corner if anybody approached them with a pin. Now, however, he was struggling to still make mistakes in his classes. Although both he and his guardian agreed that hiding his abilities was a good idea, Harry longed to show off in his school work. After years of hiding his intellect while at school with Dudley, he had hoped that his days of doing that were over.

Opening the advanced transfiguration textbook Severus had bought him before term, he turned to a page near the back. He knew where it was without having to look at the page number, and the spine was creased to open there now after hours of pouring over the same pages.

"_Chapter 17: Animagus Transformations_

_The wizard or witch planning on embarking on the Animagus Training must first have two things: a legally acceptable will in case of fatal mis-transformations, and a Ministry-approved sponsor. Said sponsor will supervise both the potion brewing required, and the attempts at the Animagus Transformation itself. Only when the sponsor is confident that the student has mastered the skill will the student be required to register themselves with the Ministry. Registration requires that all details of identifying marks of the animal are noted, along with any animal specific requirements. Animagus training is not to be taken lightly given the difficulty and should be discussed with appropriate educators before embarking upon._

_The potion to reveal one's animal form is not a complex one, merely time-consuming to brew and requires some knowledge of Occlumency or basic meditation. Animagi this century have alluded to additional ingredients being added according to what their inner animal requires. _

_First start with an empty size 5 cauldron, and add 3 pints of water mixed with wheatgrass. When the water boils, add…"_

Harry mental recitation of the chapter that he now knew by heart was interrupted by the quiet entry of his Slytherin year mates. Now that his concentration was not on the book, he could also hear the Gryffindors ambling down the corridor.

"Enjoy the gym?" asked Draco as he gracefully took his seat next to Harry.

Harry nodded and turned his attention to Professor McGonagall, who had just entered the classroom, herding the noisy Gryffindors in front of her like a sheepdog.

Harry tuned out the lesson, responding when required, but paying little interest. When the bell rang for the end of lesson, he packed his bag and waited for Draco to gather his things before heading down to the dungeons to collect his apron and dragon-hide gloves for Herbology. They arrived outside Greenhouse Three to find Hermione and Ron there already, and arguing again.

Hermione broke off her rant about small-minded people who saw no further than the crests on people's robes to say hello to Harry and Draco, then resumed her tirade. Harry caught Ron's eye, then rolled his eyes in the direction of Hermione. Ron sniggered, then tried unconvincingly to cover it with a cough. Hermione threw up her hands in disgust and stalked over to the other side of the greenhouse to talk to Neville. Although Ron still didn't speak to him, he passed the Dragon Dung fertilizer with a hesitant smile when Harry asked him and seemed happy to work with his partner at the same table as Harry and Draco for the duration of the class.

Harry returned to the Slytherin dungeon happier that night, it seemed his friendship with Ron might still be repaired.

Severus paced in his office. He had to remain there in case one of his Snakes sought him out, he made a point of posting his office hours in multiple places in the Slytherin Common Rooms; and this was one of the days he was supposed to be available to them. Knowing that Lupin was talking to the Weasley twins in his own office was frustrating. Given the chance he would just string them up somewhere until they told him where this dratted Map was; so that he could protect his son from the menace that was Sirius Black. With a growl he turned back to his desk to attempt some marking but quickly gave it up as a bad job, knowing his comments were acidic even for his standards. He felt vindicated for staying when there was a knock on his office door. He had not expected to find Harry hovering outside however.

"Good evening Mr Snape," he said formally, indicating the boy should enter. "How are you Harry, what can I do for you? Why are you walking around alone?" he asked in a more familiar fashion once the door was safely closed and warded.

"I wanted to talk to you about my studies sir," said Harry. "I asked Tiggy to come with me."

Severus nodded. "We agreed that we would keep your…prowess from the school, I do not see what more we can do."

"I'd like to study further subjects, or extend upon those I am already taking. I need to feel challenged, my lessons do not do that, I could probably take my NEWTs now!"

"OWLs certainly. NEWTs? Maybe. I can progress your Potions skills by having you assist me with some of the brewing I do for St Mungo's, and progress to helping me make Lupin's Wolfsbane. It would have to be mostly at weekends and during the holidays. You have appearances to maintain, and I cannot be seen to be favouring you in any way. Are there any other subjects in which you have an intense interest that you would like to further? I will arrange with the appropriate teacher to further your work and consider taking you as an Apprentice in a couple of years," Severus held up a hand to forestall any arguments, "Apprenticeships are not usually even discussed until Sixth year, and not taken up until the end of Seventh. We would be able to get you Apprenticed early given your status as "Saviour". The Dark Lord will return and we have a duty to make sure you will be ready. However, a sudden jump from Third year to Apprentice would raise a few eyebrows would it not?"

Harry nodded. He looked down at his hands, pretending to think, knowing that Severus would see through him immediately otherwise.

"Transfiguration sir. It is a hard branch of magic to master, and I think it will stretch my abilities. I have read through all the course texts until Sixth Year, and believe I am capable."

"Very well. Let us meet with Professor McGonagall," said Severus, rising from his seat, privately relieved that he would not have to spend the night wondering if the Wolf had managed to extract the Map from the Red-Haired Pests. He charmed the notice outside his office door to reflect that he was dealing with a request from one of his charges, and Floo-ed Minerva.

"Minerva? Might one of my students and I trespass upon your time please?"

Harry assumed that McGonagall had no objections as Severus gestured to indicate that he should accompany his guardian through the Floo.

When Harry stumbled from the large ornate fireplace in Professor McGonagall's office, he found Severus already seated with Minerva on a large couch sipping some rather exquisite smelling tea. Taking a seat beside Severus, Harry accepted a cup from his former Head of House and settled in to listen to Severus pitch the idea of Harry as a Transfiguration Apprentice to her.

"Harry requires extended studies to challenge him mentally. I believe some private further study would be the answer. He would also like to take up an Apprenticeship when circumstances allow. Does any of this pose a problem?"

"Hiding the additional lessons would require some juggling on my part, however, I think Harry should start coming to tea with his old Head of House…twice a week?"

"A good start certainly to assess what level he has achieved merely with my skills and his own readings," replied Severus.

"Good. Any more than that would be hard to disguise as anything other than what it is." Turning to Harry, McGonagall smiled, "would you like to become an Animagus like your father Harry? If you are as far ahead as Severus thinks, and I _know_ you are deliberately making mistakes in class, we could start in perhaps a year."

"He isn't an Animagus, he didn't complete the training!" blurted Harry before thinking. While he had been quite pleased that he had manoeuvred Severus basically to agree to his training, to get him in a position to become an Animagus, he froze when he felt Severus tense beside him. He hadn't realised that Severus had not shared with others that Harry was now his son. "I…I'm sorry…I didn't know you hadn't told people that…that…" Harry fell silent, not able to vocalise his thoughts…that Severus was ashamed of him, that Harry had forced the issue with his Vow, that perhaps Harry was as contaminated as he had always been told…the world started to go grey around the edges and Harry vaguely heard the clatter of broken china as his cup slipped from his grasp. He flinched, knowing that Aunt Petunia would be angry at him for making a mess. As the world went black he could hear a voice telling him to breathe.

If Minerva had ever thought that Severus could love again, the sheer panic on his face when Harry suffered an anxiety attack and fainted proved beyond any possible doubt that the dour man had allowed himself to love once again. Severus had called his personal house elf to fetch various potions, and had laid the unconscious boy across his lap as he massaged the potions down his throat. Severus sat there with the thirteen year old in his arms, stroking his hair waiting for the potions to take effect. When Harry awoke, it was to apologise to his Aunt for making a mess and garbled promises to be good. Once quieted, he realised his position in his father's arms and slid from his lap to sit beside him on the couch.

"I never finished the training Minerva. I made the potion and I know what my form would have been, but I never completed my tutelage. I was training under Dumbledore and the war got in the way."

"Well I see no reason why you cannot complete it when Harry is in training Severus if you would like to," replied Minerva with a smile.

Severus nodded and stood to leave, and Harry followed, now thoroughly embarrassed by what had happened.

Once back in the dungeons, Severus herded Harry into their quarters, sat him on the sofa, and then proceeded to pace the length of the office tugging on his hair. Just when Harry opened his mouth to apologise again, Severus rounded on him.

"_What_ were you thinking? You panicked. Why? For the sake of the gods, what upset you so much you stopped breathing?"

"You…I…You hadn't…I mean…"

"Full sentences if you please," growled Severus.

"Um, you haven't told anyone that I'm…I'm…"

"My son? Of course I have. During roll-call at each class do the professors not call you Mr Snape?" Severus looked confused.

"Yes, they do, but Professor McGonagall said, she said…" Harry's eyes started to sparkle with tears.

The Knut finally dropped and Severus let his breath out with an explosive puff and sat down.

"You thought I was ashamed of you? You thought I had told nobody because I was ashamed? Because Minerva slipped up? It hasn't been long Harry, I'm sure some people still call you Potter."

"You tensed, I thought…"

"I was learning the Transformation illegally, Dumbledore was my mentor, but not ministry approved," said Severus quietly.

Harry's mouth dropped open in a silent "oh" as he finally understood how wrong he had read the situation.

"We will talk of this later," said Severus seriously. "However, I have an appointment I must keep. Tiggy!"

With Harry safely on his way back to his Common Room with Tiggy, Severus unwarded his Floo so Lupin could come through once done with the Weasley twins. Several minutes later, Lupin clambered through the fireplace, with a scruffy looking piece of parchment in hand.

Lupin barely had time to activate the Map, however, before Minerva tumbled inelegantly from the fireplace, white as a sheet.

"Severus! Thank the Mother! She's done it again! A real one!" McGonagall looked expectantly at the pair of confused wizards.

"Slow down. Take a breath. Who exactly, has done what?" asked Lupin.

"Trelawney! She's just made her second true prophecy! We don't have much time!"

"To whom Minerva?"

"ME! It's about Black, he's going to be here, in two days!"


	16. Dobby

_A/N: As promised, another chapter…usual warnings, I own nothing etc.._

"_As Oak moon rises, the faithful servant will leave to assist his Lord…With his aid, the Dark Lord will rise once more…Once companion to the Buck, the Cù Sith and the Lupus Magicalis, he will reveal his true loyalty…When Wolf moon rises, the Heir of Slytherin will betray the Serpents and the Cobra Prince will face his destiny…As Oak moon rises…"_

Severus, Remus and Minerva stood watching the revolving figure of Trelawney in Severus' Pensieve reciting her latest prophecy. Severus had told them of her previous one – the one implicating the Potters, and marking Harry as the _"one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord"_. Minerva had been given a crystal ball by Ron Weasley that he had forgotten to give back at the end of his Divination lesson that afternoon. To the boy's credit, he had tried to give it back but had found the ladder to the Divination Tower retracted and had been unable to access Trelawney's classroom. He had therefore given it to his Head of House after she had explained that as a teacher, she would be able to enter the Tower despite the student's entrance being closed. Minerva had found Sybil muttering to herself in her office, and when questioned, Sybil's eyes had rolled up and she had started speaking in the harsh voice of prophecy.

Severus flicked his wand, sending the silvery image of Trelawney back into the depths of the Pensive. The three professors stood silently, each digesting what they had heard, each trying to make sense of it.

"Minerva, you said Sirius would be here in two days?" asked Remus.

"Oak Moon is the full moon of December. Full moon is on Friday, as you well know."

With a grimace, Remus nodded. Although the transformations were much easier with the aid of the Wolfsbane brewed by Severus because he kept his mind while in wolf form, the actual change was still painful and took its toll. Werewolves without access to Wolfsbane rarely lived past their sixtieth birthday, the condition halving the average Wizarding lifespan due to the stresses the transformation took on the body.

"Wolf Moon is the full moon of January, thirty days from now. Meaning Vol…You-Know-Who will have risen by then," continued Minerva. "We just need to work out what the rest of it means. And quickly."

"May I suggest we sleep on it?" said Severus. "I know we do not have much time but trying to reach logical conclusions from such cryptic statements is best left until fully rested."

Both Gryffindors nodded with some relief. Lupin was exhausted as his transformation approached, and Minerva had been up very early that morning. With a nod farewell, they both left the Potions Master alone in his sitting room.

Severus sat at his desk with the Map Lupin had spoken about. Lupin had told him it showed all of Hogwarts, even a few secret passages the staff did not know of. It did not show the Room of Requirement, or the Chamber of Secrets, presumably because Potter and his little gang of bullies had never found them. Idly looking through the map, Severus could see Harry attempting to sneak out of the Slytherin dorm, just as the wards went off alerting him to the fact that a Slytherin student was out of bed. He sent Tiggy to fetch the boy before he went anywhere outside of Slytherin on his own, gods only knew what the boy was thinking, trying to walk the castle at night by himself.

While he waited for the elf to walk his disobedient son to his quarters, he wrote out the key phrases from Trelawney's new prophecy with the possible meanings. His knowledge of Latin was greater than that of either Minerva or Lupin so he could work out a few without help.

_Oak moon – full moon of December._

_Faithful servant – Black_

_The Buck – Potter? Animagus form was stag_

_The Cù Sith – ?_

_Lupus Magicalis – Canis Lupus Magicalis: Werewolf – Lupin_

_Wolf Moon – full moon of January_

_Heir of Slytherin – Dark Lord?_

_Serpents – Slytherin House? _

_Cobra Prince – Harry? Popular in Slytherin, cobra Patronus. _

Severus sighed. It seemed that the batty divination professor had managed to produce another prophecy regarding Harry. The links were obvious: mentions of James Potter, Lupin and his new place in Slytherin. He put his head in his hands.

Harry and Tiggy found him like that approximately ten minutes later. Tiggy twitched her Master's sleeve and he raised his head, tired eyes looking at the pair of them. He opened the Map over the parchment he had been writing on, and spread it out to its full width, showing the basic outline of the castle.

"This is the Map Lupin mentioned. I have had little opportunity to peruse it but I feel it will be of much use to us in trying to locate Black. If he tries to enter the Castle again, assuming he gets past Flitwick's shielding charms and Sprout's plants, the Castle will lock down upon her sighting him, and the Map will lead me to him. You are better at this sort of endeavour; I want you to quiz Lupin on the Map's workings, its limitations and flaws. We have to assume that Black will know we have the Map, so we need to know how he might try to circumvent its capabilities."

"How does it work?" asked Harry, leaning over the desk a little to get a better view.

"Honestly, I have no idea," said Severus, smirking a little when Harry looked at him askance. "However, I suspect it tracks magical signatures of the witches and wizards within its field of reference…the Castle," he explained Harry looked puzzled.

Harry peered at the map. He could see the two of them in Severus' quarters, and Minerva pacing in her rooms up by the Gryffindor tower. The students were harder to see, it was after curfew and they were clustered together tightly in their respective Common Rooms and dorms. He sighed. Given the number of people in the Castle, it would be difficult to see one man out of place. Then Harry spotted something.

"I can see Filch! But he's a Squib – he's not got magic, how does it see him?"

"Doesn't have magic, please don't mangle the language. 'Not got' is the most appalling turn of phrase for an educated young man such as yourself. Every human being alive has magic to some degree – how else do you think we get Muggle-born students such as Miss Granger? Muggles and Squibs simply cannot access it. Filch has slightly more…ah…sensitivity to magic as he was brought up in a magical household. When Muggles view the outside of Hogwarts they see a ruin, but Filch sees the Castle for what she is."

"So it would show Muggles too? What about the elves? They have magic. And familiars? They all have to have a streak of magic to be able to be bonded to a witch or wizard. How would it show Animagi? Would it still show their name or something else?"

Severus looked at Harry in wonder. While he had been thinking of what the Map showed them, Harry had jumped past him to what the Map _didn't_ show. He was right in pointing out that the elves with their magic weren't shown, and neither were the familiars present in the Castle. As an extension of the same thought, neither were the owls in the Owlery – after all, they also possessed a touch of magic, not any old owl could deliver Wizard post.

"One question we can answer right away," muttered Severus. With a quick glance at the Map, he strode to the fireplace and Flooed Minerva.

"I know you're still up, despite my advice to the contrary. I need to borrow your other form to answer a question. Can you come through?"

As Severus stood up, Minerva stepped through the flames.

"How can I help?"

"Harry has brought some interesting questions to light. The only one we can answer easily is how the map shows people in their Animagus forms. Lupin indicated the Map saw through all disguises and that it would show Animagi but didn't know _what_ the Map would show."

Understanding dawned in Minerva's eyes. She took a deep breath and seemed to crouch. As she crouched, she became smaller and smaller. Seconds later a rather handsome looking silver striped tabby cat with spectacle markings around its eyes sat on Severus' rug. She jumped up onto the desk and nuzzled Harry's hand as Severus peered at the Map. He pointed at the name tag now showing next to Harry's.

'Minerva McGonagall (felis)'

"Thank you Minerva."

With a final rumble of a purr for Harry, the tabby jumped from the table and landed as Professor McGonagall.

"My pleasure. I do so love having my ears stroked!"

With a laugh, she threw Floo power into the hearth and disappeared back to her own chambers.

Severus and Harry looked at the Map again.

"So Black should show up as 'Sirus Black brackets canis'?" asked Harry.

"Your Latin is improving. Yes, I believe so. Now, to bed with you!"

Severus herded the reluctant boy into the bedroom and told him to get some sleep. How he was supposed to do that was anyone's guess but Severus needed some time to think. He had a horrible feeling they were all missing something vital.

With a muttered expletive, he threw the Map across the desk and strode to the kitchen.

"Tiggy!"

The house elf appeared, along with a tea tray and another elf Severus knew.

"Dobby?"

The excitable elf bowed and opened his mouth to speak before being nudged none too gently by one of Tiggy's bony elbows.

"Dobby wishes to help us Master Potions Master Sir. He has…volunteered to keep an eye on the private ways in and out of Hogwarts – we have always had our own methods of travel."

Severus looked between the two elves as she spoke, noting the grimace on Dobby's face at the word 'volunteered' that vanished as soon as Dobby realised it had been seen, replaced with the fawning grin that had been there previously.

"Very well Dobby," said Severus.

"You may go Dobby," commanded Tiggy imperiously. Dobby flapped his ears in response and vanished. Tiggy smiled to herself and began to set the table. "He knows his place," she said. Some of Severus' confusion must have shown on Severus' face as she then explained.

"An elf's bloodlines are important. More so even than a Wizard's. An elf's bloodlines decide their role. When a Wizarding child is born, they inherit looks and abilities from their parents. When an Elven child is born, they inherit not only their parents' traits, but also skills their parents have learnt and ties to their parents bonded Wizard. This is the reason why the mating of two elves is such an important decision, a she-elf may only mate once."

Severus nodded. Some of this he knew – it was how families guaranteed continuity of service: by allowing their elves to breed, the offspring were loyal to the family their parents were bonded to. He still didn't see how this involved Dobby however.

"Dobby is a free elf, not tied to a family any longer. Although free, he has pledged a vow of loyalty to Harry, as it was Harry who freed him of the horrible treatment visited upon him by Lord Malfoy."

Severus nodded again; this was something he was only too aware of, Lucius had been most vitriolic in his ranting about how the Potter brat has lost him the family's most useful retainer, an elf he had taught numerous things about the Dark Arts and their uses with the idea of using the elf to procure Dark Artefacts.

"The Elf Council has made a most momentous and historical decision to join the fight against the forces of Dark threatening the magical world. They have given me Dobby to sire my child, my child who will have my knowledge of potions and loyalty to you and Harry, and his knowledge of the Dark Arts and loyalty to Harry. My child is to be Harry's guard and protector to ensure he lives to defeat the Dark One."

Severus sat motionless, stunned into silence. Tiggy smiled and poured some tea for them both. She sat at the kitchen table with Severus while he thought through what she had told him. It was most unusual for the Elf Council to take direct action in this fashion. While he was aware the elves were a matriarchal society, very few elves had their mates chosen for them in such a manner. The implications for Harry were profound. Whilst Dobby's private vow of loyalty was indisputable, he had not actually bonded with Harry in the way that Tiggy had done with Severus. An Elven child of the two however, would inherit the loyalty of Severus, Tiggy _and_ Dobby to Harry, along with knowledge to protect him from any potion Tiggy knew the antidote for (which meant everything _Severus_ knew an antidote for, such was the nature of Master and Master's Elf), and every Dark Curse Dobby had ever seen (or been put under, thought Severus darkly). Combined with the innate magic of the House Elves, which allowed them free passage throughout Hogwarts, even through the wards and Anti-Disapparation Jinx, Harry was going to have a bodyguard that was as powerful as he.

Tiggy proffered a tea cup to the still silent Potion Master. She knew it was a great gift the Council was giving Harry. What Severus didn't know, and she didn't plan on telling him, was that she had been given leave by the Council to bear more than one child, and had been given an Elven potion to ensure her mating with Dobby produced twins. Severus would also have a bodyguard. The Council had its own Seers and they were probably more aware that the Wizarding World of what was to come. Severus would need protecting just as much, if not more than Harry; and the Council had no intention of allowing more grief to come to the Saviour because his Father had fallen foul of some plot to cause him harm.

Severus accepted the tea silently and continued to think on what Tiggy had told him.

"Without meaning to be indelicate, ah…when…"

"When will I produce said offspring?" Tiggy laughed. "No need for delicacy Master, we know each other better than that." She put down her teacup and placed both hands on her stomach. "In about three weeks time, we only carry out young for eight weeks or so. The Council felt that Harry should have his protector before the end of January."

"Three weeks? So when…no don't answer that, I don't want to know about the bedroom activities of House Elves." Severus paused for another sip of his tea, then slammed his cup down on the table as he processed something she had said. "What do you mean before the end of January? What does the Council know that I don't?"

Tiggy rolled her eyes. "Nothing! Only that something is going to happen before the Moon of Ice – what wizards call the Storm Moon."

Severus sighed then rubbed his face, and muttered an apology. Tiggy refilled both teacups in response.

"Do I need to do anything, or not do anything for you if you are, ah, expecting?" asked Severus, finally realising that Tiggy was an expectant mother. Pregnant witches tended to avoid magic in the latter stages of pregnancy, if only because the magic of the unborn child tended to play havoc even with the simplest of spells.

"Elven pregnancy is much different to that of Wizard-kind. We carry our young for far less time, and they are reliant upon us for only a few days before being fully independent. There is nothing you need to do Master, Dobby has arranged our housing arrangements separate from the other Elves for the birth, as is his duty as my mate. I will return to your service immediately following the birth, the duty of a child's sire is to care for it during the few days they require it."

Tiggy laughed at the expression on Severus' face, obviously trying to envision male lactation for the feeding of newborns.

"We do not feed our babies in the fashion of humans Master! Banish the image!"

Severus joined her laughter, although the image in his mind of Dobby breastfeeding a baby was a persistent one.


	17. Peter

_A/N: Another chapter…usual warnings – language etc, I own nothing._

Both Severus and Harry awoke on Thursday morning to the smell of breakfast permeating through their quarters. They both stumbled to the kitchen for some of Tiggy's cooking and made a bee-line for the tea tray, which bore the huge mug Severus favoured for his morning coffee and the tall, more delicate mug Harry preferred for his tea. Home-cooked scones warm from the oven with some of Tiggy's famous blackberry jam completed breakfast nicely.

Once he had finished eating, Harry called Tiggy and together they left the dungeons for his first class of the day. Severus' first class wasn't until second period, so he settled down with an ancient book, attempting to decipher more of the cryptic prophecy. He was deep in thought when his Floo chimed, after a brief glance at the identification scroll, he lifted the wards to allow Minerva through.

"I'm glad you told us to sleep on it Severus. Where is the book I lent you last October?"

"Merlin's pants woman how am I supposed to know? I've borrowed more books from you over the years that Pince has in the library! Give me a clue at least, a title, subject matter, something."

"It's called Miotas Albanach. Bound in black leather, trimmed in gold, with an inscription from my great grandmother 'Darling Banua, with all my love, Nana Glas'. It's an Irish tome regarding ancient myths and legends of the Scottish Highlands. There's something in there we need."

Severus frowned at the urgent look in Minerva's eyes, but didn't question any further. A sparkle over in a corner indicated that Tiggy had found the book and was highlighting to him where it was. He plucked it from its shelf and handed it to Minerva. He turned to gather the tea tray only to turn back to find her gone and the fireplace turning back to orange from green. Whatever it was that she needed the book for, it was obviously truly urgent.

Harry blundered through his day with a feeling of foreboding. He fared well in his lessons, but he didn't have to try to be mediocre. His lack of attention did that for him, much to Draco's consternation. He kept glancing at Harry, trying to work out what was wrong. Finally, at lunchtime, he left Harry in the care of Marcus in the Slytherin Common Room and went to find his Godfather. He started to knock on the Potion Master's office door, only to hear the sounds of raised voices and breaking things. Thinking something was wrong, he barged in, only to find a scary-looking Professor Lupin and an even scarier looking Professor Snape glaring at him for his interruption. With a muttered apology, he backed out of the office and fled back to his Common Room as fast as his feet could take him, Slytherin dignity be damned.

As he sat down on a sofa next to the fire to catch his breath, an almighty boom sounded throughout the dungeons. Tiggy, his Godfather's personal Elf appeared in the middle of the Common Room, grabbed Harry who was suddenly surrounded by a shimmering golden light and disappeared again. Marcus, as prefect tried to open the Common Room door, only to find it sealed from the outside.

All over the Castle, students wandering the corridors found themselves locked in classrooms, or barricaded into corners by statues or suits of armour. The main doors to the Castle shut with a shuddering boom that reverberated throughout the building and the multitude of locks started to turn. On their way back from Honeydukes in Hogsmead, the Weasley twins found themselves locked into a tiny space in the hump of the one-eyed witch. Many students were still in the Great Hall having second helpings of pudding when the doors slammed shut, along with all the shutters on the windows. The staircases all moved in synchrony, giving no access to either of the two House Towers and a battalion of suits of armour mounted on transfigured desks guarded the two entrances to the Houses in the dungeons.

Keyed as he was to the wards, the first thing Albus Dumbledore did when he felt the Castle lock down without waiting for him to perform the rite that allowed him as Headmaster to do so, was to visit the Snapes. He threw some Floo power in the fireplace and stepped through, only to be expelled across his office violently. Hogwarts was locked down tighter than the Headmaster's Rite ever allowed her to be. With huff of frustration, he called Twinkle, his personal Elf to take him to the quarters of his Potion's Master.

When he arrived, both Severus and Harry were surrounded by a bubble of golden light. Harry turned his way with glazed eyes.

"She has seen him, he's in the Castle. He got past the doors, she doesn't know how."

"Who?" asked Dumbledore, bewildered.

Severus rolled his eyes. "Black of course. Any questions, make them quick; Harry will be exhausted, this is the second time in a week that the Castle herself has made direct contact with him."

Dumbledore blanched at the implications for the young man's power, nobody had ever managed to contact the consciousness of the Castle, let alone twice.

"Other than the many questions I have for my own curiosity, I have none immediately for the Castle," said Dumbledore, watching as the glazed looked faded from Harry's eyes, which then promptly rolled up in his head. Severus laid him gently on the sofa and covered him with a blanket. "However I did have one for you Severus. I know your elf is getting to the Age of Joining and wanted to suggest a partnership with Twinkle," he said placing a gentle hand on his elf's shoulder. "With his knowledge the offspring they would produce would be an asset, a useful elf indeed." The glint in the Headmaster's eye was a steely one.

Severus knew that look. It was the same look the old man had in his eyes the night he gained a spy into the deepest, darkest ranks of Voldemort. An elven child sired by Twinkle would be loyal to Dumbledore, something Severus was sure the old man knew.

"Tiggy is already mated," he informed the Headmaster smugly. He rather enjoyed the look of frustration on his employers face, it meant that another scheme was scuppered.

"May I ask who the sire will be?"

"No. My mate has been given by the will of the Council and their actions are none of your concern. You may petition the Council for information, but you know that they are within their rights to refuse to even read your petition." None had seen Tiggy arrive.

Twinkle however couldn't take his eyes from Tiggy's stomach. It was obvious that he was disappointed not to get the opportunity to sire a child with Tiggy, but the look of wonder on his face was equally evident. He tugged on Dumbledore's voluminous sleeve. "Master, I think it wise to abide by the will and wisdom of the Council and not to ask." Then to the shock of all present, he went to his knees and bowed to Tiggy.

"Now that we've got that out of the way, shouldn't we try and catch the murderer that the Castle has penned in here with us?" sneered Severus.

Dumbledore dragged his eyes away from the sight of his elf prostrate on the floor and seemed to shake himself.

"Lupin has given me this Map to help us find him," said Severus. "He will show up as a set of footprints with a name tag bearing his name with the addition of 'canis' in brackets if he is in his Animagus form."

Something about Black's Animagus form rang distant bells in Severus' memory for some reason. He would have to ponder upon that later however.

The two of them pored over the Map for over an hour before sighting Sirius Black. He was in his Animagus form, and had somehow managed to get back out the Castle, despite everyone's precautions. He was leaving the Castle grounds via passage that Severus knew well, the one under the Whomping Willow. Both men sighed, knowing there was no way to catch him now.

"That's it, he's gone. We'll not catch him now. I wonder how he manages to get past the Willow in his canine form?" muttered Severus, again feeling that little tickle at the back of his mind, he tried to push it, but the thought escaped, as they so often do when one tries to force a recollection.

By the time the Castle was unbarred and the various suits of armour had been convinced to dismount, and said mounts had been herded back into their respective classrooms, and the doors to the Hall and Towers had been unbarred, it was dinner time. All the staff except Lupin, who was asleep in his office exhausted by the upcoming transformation the following day; were gathered in the Great Hall with the students. After a brief speech explaining that the Castle had been locked down due to a sighting of Black, dinner was served. As the school set down to eat, Severus wolfed his food and sped back to his quarters where Harry was still asleep on the sofa, watched over by Tiggy.

Severus gathered up the sleeping boy and settled him into bed, tucking the covers round him.

He paced his sitting room for hours trying to clear his mind enough to work out what it was about the information they had that bothered him, what the missing piece was.

Lupin Flooed him at about midnight, surprised to find him awake. Remus tended to be nocturnal for the few days preceding and succeeding the full moon and wondered if he could borrow the Map for a few hours. As one of its makers, he was hoping he could remember how to add to it. It had become clear after a discussion with Harry that although the Map never lied, it was limited to what its makers had known about the Castle – it didn't show the Chamber of Secrets, nor the Room of Requirement, simply because the Marauders had never found them.

It was about four in the morning when Severus was woken by the Floo chiming once again. It took him a few minutes to realize that after pacing half the night away, he had fallen asleep sitting up on one of the dining chairs. The crick in his neck did nothing for his humour at being woken at such an hour. With a wave he opened the Floo and struggled to lever himself upright. Years of the Cruciatus in the Dark Lord's service meant he was stiff as a board in the morning even if he slept in his bed; sleeping on a chair had done him no favours at all, and as soon as he'd got rid of Lupin, he was going to find a pain reliever to take with his morning coffee. His body ached in joints he didn't know he had.

"Lupin, what the fuck do you want at this crack of crow shit time of fucking day?" he growled.

Once Lupin had showed him however, the two of them left his chambers for the Headmaster's quarters at a run, Severus shouting a garbled instruction to Tiggy to watch Harry back over his shoulder as he closed the door.

Both men arrived at the Headmaster's door out of breath. The door was locked indicating that Dumbledore was still asleep.

"Hogwarts, hear me now, if you don't open this door, I'm going to batter it down! I'm tired, pissed off and I haven't had my coffee!" shouted Severus.

With speed that would have been funny in other circumstances, the door swung open. The two men both tried to go through the door at once and got briefly stuck. This was the sight that Dumbledore saw as he exited his bedchamber. Only the looks on their faces prevented him from laughing. Lupin still clutched the Marauders Map in one long-nailed hand, with a force that had turned the knuckles of that hand white. The pair finally managed to extricate themselves from the doorframe and stood in front of the Headmaster.

Frustrated with the silence, Severus nudged Lupin in the back. "Tell him what you showed me Wolf," snarled Severus, clearly unhappy.

Lupin swallowed and nodded. "The Map cannot lie. Peter Pettigrew is alive."

_A/N: Miotas Albanach – _Scottish Myths, _Banua - _Granddaughter


	18. Sirius

_A/N: Apologies for the long absence – I knew what I wanted to happen but couldn't work way to get it all together…enjoy! _

_In case you didn't know, I own none of this._

Harry awoke to find a cold continental style breakfast laid out for him, along with his mug of tea under a stasis and warming charm. Wondering where Severus and Tiggy were, Harry munched his way through breakfast, brushed his teeth and called Tiggy to take him to his first class. When she didn't appear, he assumed that she was busy with Severus in the lab and set out by himself. By the time he was nearing the Entrance Hall, he was aware that Hermione's half-kneazle Crookshanks was following him. Crookshanks followed him all morning in the end, until Harry forcibly picked up the heavy feline, much to Crookshanks' evident displeasure and deposited him next to Hermione's plate at lunch in the Great Hall.

"Crookshanks! Oh Harry where did you find him? He's been gone since last night!" squealed Hermione, burying her face in the cat's orange fur.

Swallowing a snigger at the expression on the kneazle's face at being treated like a teddy-bear, Harry muttered some depreciation about being followed all morning and scuttled over to the Slytherin table where he felt safer. It might have been Ron's mood, but there was something malevolent feeling near the Gryffindor table.

Harry ate quickly and snagged Marcus just as he stood from the table. Together the two jogged to the Room of Requirement and started their workout. Marcus, however seemed to be troubled, and Harry gave up wondering and asked him outright what was wrong.

Marcus glared at him, and then broke into a wry smile.

"Do you realise that of all people who know me well, you are the only one who has realised there's something on my mind?"

Harry shrugged. "I'm good at judging people's moods, I had to be. It often meant the difference between getting hit or not – I had to know when to duck."

Marcus scowled briefly. Although he knew some of Harry's past, the casual way the younger boy mentioned it occasionally still annoyed him. No child should get used to such treatment to the point that such behaviour became ingrained.

"The Professor has arranged for me take up an apprenticeship in the summer so I do not have to go home and be forced to take the Mark as my father wishes. He knows I have an interest in Potions and has offered me the opportunity to study with him to get my Mastery."

"That's fantastic!" exclaimed Harry, and bounded over the older boy and gave him a brief exuberant hug. He then held him at arms length and looked into his face. "So what's the problem then?"

Marcus escaped Harry's grasp and walked across the gym.

"There's someone that I…that I…_like_, and I don't know what, if anything to do about it."

Harry opened his mouth, and then closed it with a snap. Of all people, he was the last person to ask for relationship advice. He'd never kissed a girl, but had given his first blow job at the age of eight and had only recently had his virginity ripped from him by his uncle.

Marcus watched the play of emotions on Harry's face and met the stunned look with a smile.

"Same here Harry, I have no good experiences to base things on, no idea what to do."

The silence between them was broken by the bell signalling the end of lunch. Marcus walked Harry down to the greenhouses for Herbology and slipped in a side door known only to Slytherin, which lead to a short cut to the Potions classroom in the dungeons.

Herbology passed uneventfully, apart from Ron seemingly being back to his previous obnoxious self. No matter how politely Harry asked him to pass the Singing Cabbage seeds, the red-head ignored him and made rude comments to his partner Dean. Eventually, Draco walked round the bench and grabbed the pot, all the time muttering about the rudeness of the lower classes.

It was as they were clearing up at the end of the lesson, trying to wipe off as much dirt as possible before dinner; that the argument really developed. Draco couldn't find his silver comb to tidy his hair and fed up with Ron's treatment of Harry all lesson had insinuated that Ron had taken it to sell. Ron reached across the table and slapped Draco round the face before anybody had a chance to react.

"At least I don't steal people's _friends!_" he hissed before turning to leave the greenhouses.

Draco stood speechless, his hand on his face where Ron had hit him and watched him leave.

"I thought we were getting somewhere with him, I really did. Didn't he know I didn't mean it?"

"Old habits die hard Draco, especially for Ron," said Hermione, holding out his silver comb. "It was under the table, it must have fallen out when…" Hermione blushed and Draco cleared his throat.

Harry looked between them and threw his hands up in disgust.

"I give up!" he said and stalked out of the greenhouse by himself.

Draco and Hermione looked at each other for a moment, then realised that Harry was on his own and franticly grabbed their bags and followed at top speed. Harry had stopped half way up the path, and was rummaging in his bag for something.

"Ow!"

By the time Hermione and Draco had drawn level with him, it was clear why Harry was hurt. Held tightly in the hand that wasn't bleeding was a skinny grey rat with drooping whiskers and bald patches. For whatever reason, he had found Ron's rat in his bag.

Scabbers looked worse for wear, although the patches of ink on what remained of his fur from a leaking ink bottle may have had something to do with that.

"He doesn't look well does he? I wonder what…oh dear gods what is that?"

Draco let out a rather girlish scream and fainted, as a huge black dog stalked towards them. Hermione could hear shouting and turned to see Professors Lupin and Snape running from the main doors with their wands drawn. She pulled out her wand to try and stun the creature but it was too fast for her. With one leap it grabbed Harry and started to drag him towards a large angry-looking willow tree nearby. Hermione started to follow, but stopped stunned as Crookshanks rushed out of the roots at the base of the tree and pushed a knot on its trunk. The branches paused briefly in their murderous flailing, allowing the dog, still clutching Harry to dive into a gap between the roots.

Professors Lupin and Snape arrived in time to see Hermione faint next to Draco as Harry's leg got caught in a root and broke with a crunch as the dog pulled him down.

Severus dashed forward to grab one of Harry's hands, but was whipped away by the willow, it now having resumed its flailing.

"You always wondered what was at the end of that tunnel Severus, now's your chance," he muttered as he pulled himself back to his feet.

Lupin had already found a long stick and once Severus was on his feet again, prodded the knot on the trunk of the tree, freezing the branches once more.

It was a tight squeeze in the tunnel, and both men banged their heads frequently on protrusions in the ceiling. For what seemed like miles they followed the twists and turns of the passage in silence, eventually coming to a sharp uphill section, followed by a dead end. Above them was a trap-door, which Lupin pointed to and mouthed "Shrieking Shack" and then opened it quietly. The two men scrambled up and listened. Above them, there was a sound of whimpering – Harry and his broken leg. Severus cast a cushioning charm on both his and Lupin's feet, rendering their footfalls silent, and they crept up the stairs. Their destination was easy to guess as the dust on the floor was thick, and there were only one set of footprints, which led into the room directly opposite the stairs.

Severus gestured for Lupin to stay still and they listened at the door.

"…you're mad, he's dead. You killed him just like you killed my birth parents with your betrayal. My father will be here soon and will deal with you!" shouted Harry.

"Your father is dead Harry; the traitor is there in your hand! Peter Pettigrew!" said a deranged sounding man, obviously Black. Azkaban had not been kind to him it seemed.

Not willing to wait any longer, Severus burst through the door. The sight that confronted him was a horrible one. Harry was sprawled on an incredibly dusty bed, one leg bent at an impossible-looking angle and sweat running down his face. Opposite him was a tall, skinny man with long hair and even longer scraggly beard. His clothes were ripped and torn, and caked in mud and blood.

He turned to see Severus come through the door and his dirty face lit up in a feral grin.

"Snivellus! How nice of you to join us. Here to defend your Death Eater friend?"

"As I remember Black, Pettigrew was your friend, not mine," sneered Severus, "and if you have hurt my son, I will ensure that whatever he feels will be visited upon you many times over."

"Enough."

The two childhood rivals turned as Lupin stepped through the doorway.

"We all know that the rat is Pettigrew, can we not just get on with it?"

"We do?" asked Harry from the bed, looking at the squealing, squirming rat in his hand. "Since when? Didn't anyone think I might need to know?"

The wriggling rat finally managed to escape Harry's grasp and scampered off across the room, trying to hide. The three wizards fired off spells trying to stop it, Lupin finally succeeding. He muttered a spell to force an Animagus to revert to human form, and suddenly where the rat had been was a scruffy greying man with patches of hair missing. Despite the situation, Harry was still amused that Pettigrew had ink stains on his arms where his ink had leaked.

The man looked around at the occupants of the room.

"Remus, Sirius, my friends!"

"You are no friend of mine, you betrayed Lily and James to Voldemort!" shouted Sirius. "Avada Kedavra!"

Pettigrew dodged the jet of green light with more agility than he looked capable of achieving, and the spell blasted a hole in wall of the building. With a groan, one of the beams of the ceiling crashed to floor, hitting Severus across the back of the head as it fell. He slumped to the floor with blood pouring from the wound.

Lupin stunned Pettigrew before he could escape and turned to embrace Sirius.

"If you kill him, we have no proof. We need him alive."

Sirius nodded reluctantly as Lupin released him and crossed the room to Harry, who was trying to get of the bed to see to Severus.

"Keep still or you'll hurt yourself more."

Lupin transfigured several large wooden splinters into a cast that would support Harry's leg and bound it tightly. The pain caused by Remus straightening his broken leg overwhelmed the exhausted boy and he fell unconscious. With a nod to Black, Remus picked up Harry and levitated the prone form of Pettigrew as Black did the same for Severus.

Nearly at the end of the tunnel back to school grounds, Severus began to regain consciousness. Black ignored his friend's request to put Snape down gently and simply released the levitation spell, dropping the injured man to the floor of the tunnel. The resulting cry of pain was enough to rouse Harry, who immediately squirmed from Remus' control and crawled to Severus to help. Black, who originally looked confused as Harry broke through Remus' grip, growled as Harry fussed over Severus.

"Leave him, I'm sure he deserves it, greasy Deatheater," he sneered, unaware of the rising magical tension until a purple spark earthed itself on his foot, seemingly out of nowhere. "Ow! What the…"

He never finished that sentence as Harry stood before him, swaying slightly on his transfigured cast, green eyes flashing dangerously.

"You will _never_ utter those words again as long as I draw breath. You claim to be my Godfather? Well he has claimed me as my Father, and I as his Son. If you accept me, then you accept him!" Harry was shouting by the end, furious at the insult aimed at his Father by a man he had never met.

Black held up his hands. "Fine, fine. I just think you're mistaken about him, despite what you think you know about him."

Harry sneered with an uncanny resemblance to Snape and turned to Remus, who was keening softly and swaying on the spot, sweat pouring from his brow. Looking up, Harry realised that his magic has caused a small crack in the roof of the tunnel and moonlight was streaming through the hole. With widening eyes, he realised the Remus was transforming, and that he had no idea if Severus had given him his Wolfsbane potion today.

"Remus, I'm sorry - this is going to hurt," said Harry sadly. "_Mutare Lapis_!"

Black watched as his friend stiffened, turned grey and toppled over in slow motion.

"Catch him!" yelled Harry, already struggling with the weight. Black jumped forward and grabbed his friends' shoulders. He let go in shock when he realised Harry had actually turned Remus to stone to halt his transformation. Remus fell on top of Harry with a thud, and Harry screamed as the Remus statue broke several ribs and snapped the cast holding his leg. Harry's control over his magic had been tenuous at best, and between the pain, his anger at Black for not helping him and concern over his father, the last vestiges of that control snapped. His magic burst into a blaze of colour around him and acted on his wishes.

Madam Pomfrey found herself in the Hospital Wing, still in her sleepwear, having been transported there directly from her bed. Before she was fully awake and aware, Harry, Severus, a large statue that looked like remarkably like the current Defence professor and a very scruffy man she recognised from _The Daily Prophet_ who was holding a rat appeared in the middle of the room, shortly followed by the Headmaster, wearing nothing but fluffy bed socks, a hairnet containing his beard and crimson blush, and two students, Miss Granger and Mr Malfoy, who looked just as confused as everybody else.

The Headmaster wrapped himself in a bed sheet as Hermione bound the convicted felon to a bed while Poppy went to work, healing Severus' cuts and bruises and running diagnostic spells over everyone. Harry was dosed with Skelegrow, much to his disgust, and a potion to aid with magical exhaustion, which promptly made him curl up on the bed and start to snore.

"Sleep is the best thing for magic drain…especially if the one in question is not used to wielding that much power," she said, aiming the latter part of her comment to a shamefaced looking Dumbledore, who was trying his best to look authoritative while wearing a transfigured bed sheet in front of a group of people who had just seen him naked.

"He is far more powerful than I had ever imagined," said the Headmaster. "He singlehandedly broke every ward and defence the school has, transported us all here from wherever we were and replaced the wards – all within a matter of seconds. Some of those wards have been up since the Founders and are keyed to the Headmaster personally via blood contract!" Dumbledore paced up and down the Infirmary, tugging his beard from its net, trying to work out the implications. His pacing halted in front of the Remus statue.

"Very much more powerful than I could ever have imagined," his voice dropped as he began talking to himself rather than to the room at large. "…perhaps the adoption changed something? Or did I miss something in the beginning?" He resumed his pacing.

"Was there more to the union than met the eye to begin with? Possibly. Muggleborns always have a magical ancestor or two, it's a recessive trait, did no one know who hers had been? Did no one ever look?" While he muttered, Dumbledore absent-mindedly transfigured a box from a pillowcase, took Pettigrew from Black's bound hand and unceremoniously dropped the frantic rat in, sealing the top and spelling the container to be unbreakable to prevent his escape.

"I think you've suffered enough Sirius," he said and released Black from Hermione's ropes. "Mr Black was framed by Peter Pettigrew," explained Dumbledore, who then shook the box he held sharply. The muffled squeak inside punctuated his point. "Get some sleep; I'll talk to you in the morning." With that, Dumbledore swept out, talking to himself about genealogy potions and disloyal friends.

"What did he mean about Mu…err, Muggleborns having a magical ancestor?" asked Draco.

"Honestly, do you think we spring up from under cabbage leaves?" said Hermione laughing at the look on Draco's face. "Every Muggleborn has magical ancestors; they're just further removed than yours. You need magic from both sides of your family to be magical; it's just that a Muggleborn's ancestors are so far removed that everyone's forgotten who they were and when."

The conversation continued as they left the Hospital Wing, debating good-naturedly about the bloodlines of Muggleborns and Purebloods.

"So who were your magical ancestors? Granger certainly isn't a Wizarding name!"

"No," said Hermione slyly, "but Brunswick and Corbeau are."

She giggled at the shock on Draco's face. It wasn't every day someone told you their ancestors were descendants of Rowena Ravenclaw who survived the French Revolution on one side and the remains of the non-ruling British Wizarding Royalty on the other.

She gave him a friendly punch on the shoulder. "Who's got better bloodlines now?" she asked, grinning.

Draco grinned back, then before he could change his mind, leaned in and kissed her. The look of shock on Hermione's face was enough to wonder if he'd misread things, and he took off at a run down the steps to the dungeons, leaving Hermione to wonder why he'd left. She was smiling all the way to the Gryffindor Tower.

Once he was sure both Harry and Snape were asleep, and the overbearing Matron had retired to her office, Black crept from his bed. He stood looking down at Snape, an ugly look on his face.

"You tried to steal Lily, I will not let you steal Harry. I don't now what it is you've done to him, but I'm going to fix it. I didn't spend the last twelve years in Azkaban to find my Godson in your care, Snivellus. I don't care that you fooled them all into thinking you've changed, I know you haven't. Once a Deatheater, always a Deatheater. _Obliviate._"


	19. Padfoot

_A/N: I know it's been ages and I'm sorry about that. It's taken me a while to work out how the next few chapters are going to go. One thing I did want to point out in response to a review left at the end of the last chapter. I was accused of making Harry a power sue and that Canon!Harry is not more powerful than Dumbledore. Firstly, I rather hoped you would know me better than that by now. Secondly, I think I've given you enough clues to work out what happened with the wards, I don't understand why it was misunderstood. Thirdly, this is isn't Canon is it? 'Nuff said._

Severus woke to the sound of shuffling feet and muffled whispers. He head felt like a family of trolls were playing bowls with his brain – to say he had a headache was an understatement. The annoyance of the voices was soon drowned by the searing thought that there were other people in his chambers, and he jerked himself upright to remonstrate with whoever it was. The movement made his head hurt all the more, and he let out a groan, which was followed shortly by another as the brilliant light of the room hit his eyes. The lighting explained the noise however, as he immediately recognised the brilliant white walls of Madam Pomphrey's domain. Cursing, he attempted to locate his clothes before she found him awake, all the time wondering how he had ended up in the Hospital Wing. His memories of the last few days seemed fuzzy, and he also appeared to be missing large chunks of the last few months.

"Ah Severus, I'm glad you're awake!" exclaimed Madam Pomphrey, bustling over with a tray of potions.

Severus closed his eyes in defeat – there was no way he was going to escape now.

"You had a nasty blow to the head, take this," said the Matron, thrusting a headache potion into his hand, and waved her wand around his head as he drank. "You have a concussion, but it's not too serious, I want to be informed if you start feeling any of the usual symptoms: nausea, blurred vision, that sort of thing. You have enough Mediwizard training to know when you need help, your elf will be aid enough as I know you will not come back to me voluntarily."

As the headache receded, Severus opened his eyes once again. Now that the brilliance of the room didn't feel like someone was pushing daggers into his head, he had a quick glance around. Potter was curled up in the bed next to him, no doubt having been caught doing something else he wasn't supposed to. Why there appeared to be a statue of the werewolf in the middle of the room was a mystery, as was the reason why his wand was on the chair next to his bed rather than under his pillow where he always kept it when asleep. He cast an obligatory sneer at the fussing Mediwitch and dressed with all the speed he could muster, sweeping out of the Infirmary doors just as Potter was waking up. The noise from the Great Hall indicated that he had not missed breakfast, so he stalked up to the Head Table and settled himself down to a cup of fresh coffee and a plate of toast and jam.

As Severus was leaving the Hall, Marcus and Draco hailed him from the dungeon corridor. Breathlessly, the two Slytherins closed the distance between them and then both started talking rapidly.

"Sir, are you healed?"

"What happened? One minute I was…"

"Has he been arrested?"

"Where is Harry?"

"Is Harry alright?"

The two boys stopped talking when they saw the look on their teacher's face.

"Why would I know the whereabouts of the Gryffindor Golden boy? And more importantly, why would I care? And what business is it of yours?" spat Severus, turning on his heel and leaving them standing in the middle of the corridor with most un-Slytherin looks of complete shock on their faces.

"Draco. Draco! _Draco!_" Marcus nudged the younger boy in the side to gain his attention, who immediately schooled his expression into his usual mask of indifference. Which then faltered as he wrinkled his brow, trying to work out what had just happened.

"You have to get to class, lateness is not tolerated. We will speak of this later, when we have both had time to assess."

Draco nodded and started up the stairs to the Transfiguration classroom. Marcus had no class immediately after breakfast, so went to the gym to try and clear his head.

Harry woke to the sound of the bell signalling lunchtime. He yawned and stretched, then flinched as he realised there was someone sitting in the chair next to his bed.

"Hey Harry, how do you feel?" asked the man.

Harry's tired brain took a minute or so to remember who this man was. He was Sirius Black, an escaped convict who had been falsely imprisoned for the murder of his parents. He didn't know this man however, for all that he was Harry's Godfather, and Harry found himself edging over the bed to get as much distance as possible between them. He was rescued by Madam Pomphrey, who upon hearing he was awake, came over to him and started feeling his temperature and running scans with her wand. He swatted away her hand, much to her displeasure.

"I'm fine Madam Pomphrey, honestly. How's my Father, where is he?"

Black drew in a sharp breath hearing Harry refer to The Greasy Git as his father; the man's manipulation of Harry had gone deeper than he had anticipated.

"He discharged himself before breakfast, you know how much he loves being here," replied Poppy with a smile.

Harry nodded, whilst Black's mind was in turmoil. The Matron was obviously part of whatever Snape was planning for Harry; why else would she have kept up the pretence? He made a mental note to check her for a Dark Mark and to speak to Dumbledore as soon as he could.

In the meantime, Pomphrey had finished checking Harry over, instructing him not to overdo it in the gym, and to get plenty of sleep for the next few days. Harry dressed as quickly as he could and dashed to the Great Hall, ignoring Black's calls from behind him. He skidded to a halt next to Marcus, who took one look at him and pulled him into a hug muttering about how worried he had been. Draco cleared his throat from behind them reminding them both that they were in the middle of the Great Hall with everyone watching. They both sat, Draco filling Harry's plate with salad and a jacket potato, and pouring a cup of pumpkin juice for him. Harry nodded to him, accepting Draco's behaviour as a more restrained version of the impulsive hug Marcus had given him, and settled down to eat.

He had not even finished applying butter to his spud however, when Snape swept down the aisle to stand behind him.

"And just what do you think you are doing Mr Potter?" said Snape in a voice so cold that most of the Slytherin table shivered.

Harry turned to face his father, confusion writ clear on his face.

"Sir? I was just eating my lunch."

"You know _exactly_ what I mean Potter, what are you doing at _this_ table and why are you out of correct uniform?" Snape's ire was rising, along with the volume of his voice.

"This table sir? This is my table, I don't understand," said Harry becoming more upset.

"Fifty points from Gryffindor Mr Potter for rudeness and cheek!" shouted Snape.

The whole Slytherin table slewed round for a look at the hourglasses at the head of the Great Hall, hoping to see fifty rubies being removed from the Gryffindor hourglass. Snape followed their gaze with a smirk, which turned to a frown when nothing happened.

"How have you Confunded the House Point count Potter? Gryffindor so far behind so you have to resort to cheating?" said Snape, now furious. He looked at the Gryffindor total. "Four hundred and sixty-three points from Gryffindor," he said cruelly - a deduction that would have left Gryffindor with no points at all, half way through the school year and no hope of catching up. Or at least it would have, if it had worked. In any other situation, the expression on the Potions Master's face would have been comical. His face had flushed almost purple and his teeth were gritted. Harry, who had last seen this sort of expression on his Uncle's face, took to his feet and ran out of the Hall as fast as he could.

Severus growled in annoyance and left the Hall to see the Headmaster, muttering about arrogant Gryffindor brats all the way.

Harry sped along the hallways to the one place he knew Snape would not go – back to the Hospital Wing. He skidded to a halt just inside the doors, out of breath and with tears in his eyes. He had never thought he would see that look on his Father's face. That expression that meant the person wearing it was seconds away from hitting something (or _someone_ his terrified mind supplied). Had everything been a lie? Would Severus hit him? Or worse?

He caught his breath and realised there was a flurry of activity further down the aisle of the Infirmary, people coming and going from behind a curtain. He crept past the beds and peered round the curtain, coming face to face with a stone Lupin. Memories of the previous night filtered through his earlier fears and he remembered that he had turned Remus into stone to prevent his transformation.

"Ah Mr Snape, impeccable timing as ever," remarked McGonagall. "Very impressive Transfiguration skills, ten points to Slytherin. Can you tell me please which spell you used so we can return our Defence teacher to his usual self rather than a life-sized garden ornament?"

Harry sniggered and said, "_Mutare Lapis_, with a wave at the end of the movement to allow for animate to non-animate transformation."

McGonagall's eyes widened. "Good Godric Mr Snape, I would have thought that spell was far too complex for the spur of the moment. Well, that explains why a standard _Finite_ didn't work." She turned back to the statue and waved her wand muttering under her breath. The statue seemed to groan and stretch and as it did so, colour started to return to Lupin's face. He took a deep breath, swayed on his feet and collapsed.

McGonagall manoeuvred the prone teacher onto a bed as Madam Pomphrey began her diagnostics.

"He's just exhausted, his body was expecting the Transformation but it was halted by Mr Snape's actions. He'll sleep for most of the day, I will use magic to get him to swallow his potion, and then dose him with a sleeping draught. He should sleep through tonight's transformation and be right as rain tomorrow. Five points to Slytherin for quick thinking in the face of danger Mr Snape."

Harry nodded. "Was Professor Snape alright this morning when he left? He seemed really angry with me for something in the Great Hall, I don't know what I've done wrong!" the last came out as a choked wail as the tears that had been threatening since the Great Hall finally spilled down his cheeks.

McGonagall gathered the distraught boy into an awkward embrace, and then wrapped her arm round his shoulders.

"Let's go and have some tea in my office. I don't know what's wrong with Severus; but knowing him, I doubt it's your fault," she said, trying to reassure him.

Harry gulped and nodded, trying to stop the tears. The two of them left the Hospital Wing together.

Harry had stopped crying by the time they reached Minerva's office. She ushered him inside and called a house elf for tea. They sat together on a sofa in front of the fire while they drank their tea. Harry turned to his former Head of House.

"Am I really the first one to make contact with the Castle herself?"

"Yes Harry, nobody else has managed successfully. Many have tried, with varying amounts of achievement. Most have simply failed outright, some – usually the Headmasters of their time - have been able to reach an unspoken understanding with the Castle, which usually only means they have a more heightened awareness of what goes on within her walls. More so than the wards allow at least. The Castle has been here for so long, built by the Founders and imbued with rudimentary consciousness for her own protection, soaking up excess magic for years; Hogwarts is probably the single most powerful magical entity on Earth. Although why she felt that transporting the Headmaster to the Hospital Wing last night with no clothes on was a good idea is beyond me."

She laughed at Harry's expression. "Yes Mr Snape, I heard about that, you may not have been aware at the time but Miss Granger and Mr Malfoy were also transported from the grounds to the safety of the Hospital Wing at the same time you were. Miss Granger came to me this morning asking if the Wizarding World had an equivalent to Muggle psycho-therapy as she felt she had seen something that may scar her for life. When she told me I laughed so hard I cried. I think she felt better after that."

Harry grinned. "I hadn't realised she had brought them too."

"She, Mr Snape?"

"Hogwarts. It wasn't me that broke through the wards; she lowered them, moved us and put them back. She told me while I was asleep. She also said that I shouldn't judge people who have suffered injuries to their soul, but I don't quite know what she meant by that."

"Injuries to the soul? What a horrible thought. An injury like that can drive a person mad, or heighten an already existing mental instability. I wonder who she…oh dear. Oh my." McGonagall stood suddenly, ignoring the cup that fell to the floor, staining the carpet. She grabbed a handful of Floo powder and lent into the fireplace. "Albus? ALBUS! I think you need to hear this."

Severus thundered up the stairs to the Headmaster's office, his mood not improved by a burgeoning headache. He stopped just as he was about to open the door, hearing voices within. He couldn't hear every word, but it was clear that whoever was speaking was very angry.

"…unrealistic…way he would voluntarily…evil Git!"

"My boy, calm…true…Oath…misunderstood…childish grudge."

Severus had heard enough to ascertain the identity of the second speaker. Albus had Sirius Black in his office! Severus only had vague recollections of newspaper articles of the man's miraculous escape from Azkaban, but what was he doing here? Why hadn't Albus had him arrested?

Severus threw the door to the Headmaster's Office open with a bang and swept inside.

Black stopped in mid-rant, crossed the office and hit Severus across the face.

"What have you done with my Godson you evil Git? What do you want him for, you murdering Death Eater scum?"

Severus nonchalantly immobilised the raving man and wiped the spittle from his face with exaggerated disgust.

"I have no idea what you are talking about Black; I rather thought you were closer with the Dark Lord than I."

Severus decided that the look of fury on Black's face was worth the bruise on his cheek. Ignoring Black, he turned to look at the Headmaster.

"Albus, it would appear the House Point hourglasses are no longer responding to me. I attempted to take points from Mr Potter this morning and nothing happened."

Albus frowned. "Really? How peculiar. Let's have a look shall we?" Albus waved his hand and a cupboard opened to show a miniature version of the house hourglasses in the Great Hall. Has anything changed since you last saw them Severus?"

"Slytherin has gained fifteen points and Ravenclaw ten in the last twenty minutes, the others remain the same."

"Very well, explain to me what occurred this morning that meant you tried to take points from Harry."

"The brat was sat at the Slytherin table, wearing Slytherin uniform and had the nerve to cheek me when I questioned it! He thought I was questioning his choice of _food_, as if I could care less about what he chooses to stuff himself with," said Severus indignantly.

Both men ignored the muffled sounds of indignation from the immobilised man by the door.

"I will have to look into this Severus; I will inform you of my findings."

"Fine. I am going to my quarters, despite a Headache Potion from Poppy this morning, I have the most terrible headache, and I am cancelling my classes for the day. They all have plenty of work to do, for the sake of the Gods don't take it into your head to teach for me today, last time you taught them how to make sweets!"

Dumbledore waved his hand in acknowledgement as Severus swept out the door, pausing as he passed the still motionless form of Sirius Black.

"I assume there is a reason for a convicted murderer being in your office?"

"All in due time my dear boy."

The door slammed closed with such force several items rattled on their shelves.

"Sirius my boy…I think it is time you and I had a little chat. Do you know exactly have you done?"

Although the words themselves were not harsh, the tone was. Sirius was forcibly reminded why Dumbledore was the only wizard He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named was afraid of, and shivered despite himself. He knew he had done the right thing, the Headmaster would see that. It wasn't healthy for Harry to fixate on Snape, who obviously was only using the boy for some evil purpose. Harry would be better off with him; they could be a proper family now that Pettigrew's guilt could be proven. Harry would get over whatever Snape had done to him and it would all be alright. Of course it would. So why did Dumbledore look so angry?


	20. St Dymphna

_A/N: Two chapters in one day – hey don't get used to it, but as I had it all written I thought I'd make up for the lack of updates by doing two in one day. I want to thank everyone for their support; I couldn't do it without you._

Severus slammed the door to his chambers and sank down on his sofa with a sigh…and stood up again quickly when he realised he had sat on two third year textbooks. He picked them up with a frown: they weren't his books. He turned to put the books on his desk to examine later and noticed the crack in the Mantle of his Floo had been mended. When had that been done? Severus had no recollection of having it fixed; in fact he had a vivid memory of telling the Estimator from the Guild of Floomasters _exactly_ what to do with the extortionate price he had been quoted to fix it. Gazing round his quarters, more changes made themselves evident. A child's cloak and heavy weather boots were by the door, next to his own. There were two mugs on the table in his kitchen, one of which was certainly not his. Further investigation into the contents of the cold box confirmed two different types of breakfast pastry and the cupboard contained a brand of tea he did not drink. More confused than ever, Severus opened the door between his room and the bathroom – a door that shouldn't have been there. Inside, there was a bedroom evidently occupied by a teenager. Although tidy, there were textbooks on the shelves and child's clothes in the wardrobe. The pain in Severus' head grew to unbearable levels and he sagged to his knees, holding the frame of the bed for support. The room swam around him and he realised it must all be in his mind, a by-product of the concussion. As his vision greyed, he managed to croak, "Tiggy!" before losing consciousness.

Sirius Orion Black paced the length of the chamber he had been given. He had no way of leaving "for your own good" Dumbledore had said. The fireplace was not connected to the Floo, and there was no Floo power anywhere, he had pulled the place apart looking. The door would not open from the inside, no matter the spells he tried. All the while, he worried about Harry, about what Snape wanted with him. With a growl Sirius sat down on the floor; having ruined the sofa in his hunt for non-existent Floo powder. Dumbledore seemed to think he had done something awful, but he could not for the life of him think what it could be. He had not told the Headmaster about Obliviating Snivellus, it was his job to look out for Harry. Besides, that couldn't be counted as something bad. Dumbledore had been waffling on about Mind-Healers – perhaps he had meant for Harry? That must have been it; Harry needed a Mind-Healer to cure whatever Snape had done to him. The anger at Snape overwhelmed him again. That dirty Death Eater had killed Lily; he must have coerced or blackmailed poor Peter into betraying his friends. Why Albus continued to let him near children, let alone teach them was a mystery. Who knew who else he had recruited to Voldemort? Was that what he wanted with Harry? He transformed into his Animagus form, the emotions roiling in him were easier to deal with when he was a dog. The reasons didn't matter in this form, just the overwhelming need to protect his pack, the cub of his best friend. He sat on his haunches and started to howl, the eerie note of a canine in mourning.

Harry huddled in a corner of the Slytherin common room, trying to avoid the stares of his housemates. They had all seen the incident in the Great Hall at lunch, and now the Professor was nowhere to be found. He had cancelled his classes for the afternoon, had not appeared at dinner, and had not been in his office when someone had knocked for a scheduled meeting. Harry knew that somehow there was a connection but had no idea what to do about it. Professor McGonagall had ushered him down to the Slytherin dungeon after repairing her teacup and vanishing the stain on her carpet. It was clear she had been shaken by what she had realised however, because the Transfiguration Mistress's normally exemplary spellwork had only partly removed the stain. She had walked down to the dungeons with him at such a pace he had to work to keep up, and he had no breath to ask what was wrong. Reflecting on this, he realised that was why she had walked so fast. A house elf popped into the common room in front of him, handed him a letter and popped away again. Evidently there was no need for a reply.

Opening the letter, Harry read with growing apprehension. Tiggy had found Severus unconscious in their quarters and taken him to the Infirmary. It was nearly curfew, but he decided that he had to make sure his father was alright. He crept over to portrait hole, only to be confronted by Marcus.

"Where do you think you're going this time of night?"

Harry handed him the note and looked up at the older boy with pleading eyes.

Marcus read the note and looked at the expression on Harry's face. He shifted uncomfortably.

"Fine. But you are not going alone, I shall accompany you. You are still not supposed to walk the corridors by yourself."

With that, he opened the portrait and the pair set of for the Hospital Wing.

On the fourth floor, Mr Filch the caretaker had finally tracked down the source of the horrible noise that had been ringing through the corridors. It seemed to be coming from a long disused set of chambers that had been used by some mistress or other of a professor in days long gone. Obviously some student had set a caterwauling charm or similar, or shut a rival's familiar inside. He opened the door, only to be bowled over by a large black dog. His head hit the floor with a crack and the last thing he heard was his dear cat Mrs Norris hissing and spitting at the dog.

Harry and Marcus slunk quietly through the corridors, both aware that they were now out after curfew and that if they were caught, the Professor would have them in detention doing something disgusting, probably for a very long time. With a sigh of relief they reached the doors to the Infirmary, and pushed the doors open quietly. The Headmaster and Professor McGonagall were standing near a bed at the end of the aisle whilst the Matron worked over her patient. Who didn't seem all that cooperative.

"I'm _fine_ woman, stop fussing! Sweet Salazar, how did I end up in here twice in one day?" hissed the irate Potions Master.

"Albus, I don't know what to do with him, he's lost most of his memories for the last four months or so. I can't find what the common…oh," she broke off in mid-sentence as she spotted the two Slytherins standing nervously by the door.

Dumbledore and McGonagall turned to look at Harry, who had a look of complete horror on his face. The last four months? That was when Severus had adopted him! No wonder he had been angry seeing Harry at the Slytherin table – he'd forgotten it all: the adoption, the resorting, everything. Harry's knees buckled beneath him, and he would have fallen to the floor except for the strong arms of Marcus, who held him upright.

Severus gaped at his Slytherin prefect holding the Brat-Who-Lived in such a tender manner. He shut his eyes with a groan as the headache recently cured by Poppy's headache potion returned with full force. He lay back on the bed and covered his eyes in the hope that it would go away.

Harry regained his feet only to have them knocked out from underneath him by a large black dog, which then stood between him and Marcus, growling all the while.

"Sirius, what are you doing?" shouted Dumbledore, cursing himself for not securing the man more effectively.

The dog transformed into the scruffy man Harry recognised from earlier that morning.

"I am protecting my Godson from this boy, who was restraining him. _She_," pointing to Poppy, "should not be trusted. She is involved in whatever scheme Snape has with Harry; check her for the Dark Mark!"

"You're mad! Stark raving bloody bonkers!" said Harry.

"Language Harry!" said Dumbledore. "Whilst I agree with your assessment, profanity is not required."

With a wave of his hand, Black was bound to chair, spluttering with indignation.

"I think we need to speak your elf Severus, would you call her please?"

"Why? What does my personal elf have to do with this?"

"From what I have seen Severus, I rather suspect you have been Obliviated." Dumbledore turned to glare at Black. "Your elf will be able to verify that through her connection to you. Though quite what we are going to do about it, I am not sure. Obliviate is a complex spell usually only used by those with expert training, not those who have spent fourteen years in a Wizard prison, the damage may be permanent."

"I'm not sorry! I had to protect Harry! You were going to turn him Dark and make him join He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named!" shouted Black from his chair.

Severus waved his wand in Black's direction, gagging the furious man.

"If you have nothing sensible to add to this conversation Mutt, then I suggest you keep quiet and listen to your betters," snapped Severus.

Harry giggled at the look of outrage on the man's face, then sobered when he caught the glare Severus was sending his way.

"Any why, Mr Potter are you here? Come to gloat over your Professor's ill-health? I'd take points from Gryffindor if I thought it would work. You are still out of correct uniform."

After everything that had happened, Harry's control broke.

"I am not! I was resorted at your request as my new guardian. My name is Snape, not Potter. Tiggy!"

"Ludicrous Potter, is that the best you can do? My elf will only answer to me…"

Severus broke off as Tiggy popped into the Infirmary.

"How can I help you Master Snape, Master Potion's Master?"

"Tiggy, is your Master alright? We think he may have been Obliviated," asked Dumbledore gently.

Tiggy closed her eyes. The bond between elf and their Master was a deep and complex one. The oath she had sworn to him and the blood bond they had made together at their melding had formed a link between his magic and hers. It gave her more power, but also gave her an awareness of _him_, of his magic and of how well he was, an essential in her Master's profession – if he was injured, she had to know so she could help. She delved through their shared link, looking for signs of something wrong. It didn't take long. Everything to do with young Master Harry Snape had been repressed. She knew of the spell used, it was supposed to remove memories, but it had been cast inexpertly and with a wand incompatible with the caster. Her Master's wand was imbued with his own magic and his own magic aimed at itself had tried to mitigate the damage done. She could hear her Master shouting and screaming in pain as she released the memories. It was not supposed to be painful, but the nature of the circumstances that led to Master adopting Harry had been a painful reversal of his opinions and attitudes, and now it was happening all at once. With one last effort, she released the memories from the previous night and withdrew.

Snape was pale, sweaty and trembling. His eyes were bright with fury as he advanced on the bound and gagged form of his childhood tormentor.

"Did you think it funny to take away the only thing I care about? Did you not have enough fun ruining my childhood, trying to murder me with a werewolf without ruining my second chance? For all that you have hurt me, you hurt Harry more," he hissed.

Harry choked out a sob. Whatever Tiggy had done, it had worked. It had not been easy watching as Tiggy has been doing…whatever it was that she had being doing. Marcus had to restrain him at one point from disturbing her concentration as he couldn't stand the sight of Severus being in such pain. Severus crossed the room and embraced him, tears flowing down both their faces.

"Sirius, I have arranged for a Mind-Healer to collect you tomorrow afternoon, you will be taken to St Dymphna's Hospital for the Disturbed. They will assess the damage done to you by your years in Azkaban. The title of Lord Black will fall to Harry as your next of kin. Pettigrew will be tried for his crimes and you _will not interfere between Harry and Severus again_. Do I make myself clear?"

Black squirmed in his chair, trying to escape the ropes binding him to the chair. He transformed into his Animagus form, dodged the stunners launched by all present in the Infirmary and escaped, bounding down the stairs, out the doors and into the night.

_A/N: Before you flame me for the name of the mental health institution, I've taken it as a given that the Wizarding attitude to mental illness is as archaic as everything else – "disturbed" is about as understanding as they get…_


	21. Azkaban

_A/N: I know, I know, it's been ages. I've struggled with this and the next chapter for long time. Thank you for sticking with me. This needed explaining before we went any further…_

Harry spent the next several nights staying with Severus in their quarters instead of returning to the Slytherin dorm after classes. Neither seemed willing to let each other out of sight for very long and they spent many hours each night just sitting in front of the fire together, reassuring themselves of the other's presence. It was during one of these evenings that Harry voiced the question that had been turning over in his mind since his conversation with McGonagall.

"When I spoke to the castle, she told me not to judge those with an injury to the soul. When I told McGonagall she got really upset and yelled for the Headmaster. What does soul injury mean? What is your soul?"

Severus let out a huge sigh – when Harry asked questions recently they always seemed to be the 'big' ones: about souls or elemental magic or right and wrong. Not age-appropriate ones about girls or spots or sex. Yet another indicator of how much this now not so scrawny boy had to grow up before his time and how his innocence had been taken from him by his family. Would he even be able to form a normal romantic attachment to a witch? Something else to worry about thought Severus unhappily, deciding he'd have to add it to the mental list, with all the other things he and Harry may have difficulties with in the future.

"Souls and soul magic are complex questions and not entirely separate," Severus paused for breath and decided a cup of tea would be required for this conversation – the topic could get quite dark and as one's own soul understood the evil that could be done it chilled the body in an appropriate display of revulsion. "Fetch that book on the top shelf for me while I make tea, the red one with black bindings."

Harry retrieved the book as asked, marvelling at its weight: for all that it was a seemingly slim volume; it apparently weighed as much as one of the huge genealogy tomes that Draco was lugging to class with his everyday to discuss with Hermione. Harry grinned to himself - four months ago he wouldn't have been able to carry this heavy book, let alone get it from a shelf higher than his head. The sessions in the gym with Marcus were paying off. He was now as tall (or taller) than his peers and had musculature that most were envious of.

Severus returned with the tea set as Harry sat down with the book. He went to open it only for Severus to slap his hand away from the catch.

"Did I not teach you to always _look_ at a book before opening it? That there more dangerous books in libraries than there are animals in the Forest?" asked Severus seriously, desperately trying to ignore the hurt in Harry's eyes at the gentle slap on his hand.

Harry looked away and nodded. He had forgotten in his eagerness to learn. He turned back to the book and picked it up once more, careful to keep his hands away from the catch to open it. The weight given its size should have been an indicator that this book was one of the more malevolent he realised. The black bindings were not actually black but a dark brownish maroon…Harry dropped the book suddenly when he realised the leather straps holding it closed were bloodstained, not tanned as he had first thought. Opening such a dangerous book without appropriate preparation would require blood to close it again

Shuddering, Harry gingerly picked up the book again and angled it so any inscriptions on the stained bindings would show. He turned the book this way and that, seeing nothing. Just when he was going to ask Severus, he saw it. Near the bottom on the third strap on the back of the book was a series of small marks. Grateful now that he had listened to Hermione about Ancient Runes, he mentally translated the runes.

"Speak desire, I will decide, speak nothing, I will not abide. Tell me true or you will rue. To enter circle cast with hand on heart, impart gratitude before we part."

Harry glanced at Severus, who nodded; impressed that Harry had found the inscription. The reason these books were so dangerous was that many never found the inscription so had no idea how to mitigate the potentially deadly effects.

Harry placed the book on the table, drew a circle on the front cover with his right hand and covered his heart with his left.

"I seek knowledge of injuries to the soul."

The book unclasped itself and began to flick through pages – far more than could be in such a slim book. It stopped about half way through the book, at a chapter entitled _"The moste perilous of soule damyge"._

"Before you read, I'd like to tell you what I know, what little I do know of the soul," said Severus. "Our souls are the core of our magic, the source of it. The reason those who dabble in the Dark Arts are not able to produce a Patronus is usually due to damage inflicted by Dark Magic on the soul. Dark Magic is not outlawed for the sake of it, it is magic used solely to hurt others, whether than be physical pain, or by changing the world in order to hurt them. Love potions are borderline Dark, do you understand why?"

"Because it removes choice, almost like the _Imperious_ spell," replied Harry quietly.

"That's right. There are other potions considered Dark. One for example induces intense sexual pleasure in the drinker whenever the maker of the potion touches them. Many unwary married couples have used it to 'spice up' their marital relations, however few realised until too late that it renders one unable to achieve sexual satisfaction with anyone _other_ than the maker of the potion. For the rest of their lives. Before you say anything, just think about that for a moment," he added seeing Harry about to object.

Harry subsided and pondered the ramifications. He realised that it could be used to remove choice in much the way Love Potions could. It would effectively 'bind' someone to another person, meaning they would not find sexual pleasure with any other partner. Young couples may potentially separate; two people who had taken the potion would not be able to enjoy themselves with anyone else. Or, his horrified mind suddenly realised, it could be used to make a victim of abuse _enjoy_ what was being done to them. If Vernon had been a wizard and had made the potion, then…Harry swallowed the bile threatening to rise in his throat with a gagging noise.

"I see you have thought it through fully," said Severus with sympathy putting his arm round the shivering boy. "There are other spells or objects that are Dark, either by their intent or their manufacture. This book for example may be considered Dark by some given what its price is should it be opened without performing the appropriate actions. I do not consider it so as it is not _inherently_ Dark; it states its intentions clearly – by not telling it what you are looking for or drawing the circle with one hand on your heart you ignore the warning writ upon it. At your own peril I might add."

"Soul magic is unusual even among Wizarding kind, simply because it is hard to perform. It is not usually something one can learn or practice, it is usually spontaneous, much like our bond to one another – neither really _meant_ to make it, but our soul performed the magic given our intentions. Dark magic damages the soul, but one does not have to perform it to be damaged. Extensive close proximity to a Dark object or to one whose soul is corrupted with Dark magic can also bring about damage."

"What damage? What does it do to you?" asked Harry.

Severus nodded towards the book. "I do not know fully, only what I have learnt from this or second-hand from my time as a Death Eater spy. It makes some mad, or changes the way one thinks about the world. I know the Dark Lord had delved extensively into Dark magic concerning the soul, and it altered his appearance – the handsome man many had flocked to was not the man who attacked you as a baby, his appearance was not altogether human by then. Bellatrix Black, a cousin of Draco's was a beautiful young witch when she entered the Dark Lord's service at her Mother's insistence. Many years of love for her Master have polluted Bella's mind and body both – she delights in causing pain to others and her beauty has been ravaged by the evil spells she has cast. Even I am not immune, whilst my soul is complete as proved by the Patronus, I suffered Depression for many years as a result of the Darkness I had observed."

Harry nodded thoughtfully and began to read. It became apparent that the contents of the book changed at will and seemed to be giving him the basics rather than an in-depth analysis of soul injuries.

"_Injurys of the soule are caused by Darke Magick, its use thereof, or the possession of ayn object made by its use. The mind of the Wyzard contains the products of his thoughts. Each evil thought be locked in a chest and thrown awaye downe the well of the mind so it may not impede him. Darke Magick be like acid on a lock, the evil may leaketh. When the well of the mind be poisoned with evil, the bodie will surely follow. While moste will not dabble with this most awful of magicks, there are those professions where contact with the Darke is not avoidable. Wardens of the gaol on the rock called Azykabyn are the moste notable, not due to their prisoners, but the Guards, they who are called the Dementored. Whilst their use cannot be disputed in keeping the gaoled contained therein, even within their own minds; the makings of such fell creatures was Darke. So Darke that their beginnings are as much in shroud as their faces. Wardens of the Rock be protected by ancient bindings to prevent their minds being poisoned by their contact with the Dementored. Moste of the gaoled lose their tenuous hold on their minds shortley after their arrival on the Rock._

_The moste grievous of injurys to the soul be that caused by the murder of another. Murder ryps the soul. One can survyve a ryp but more than one maye make a tear. A tear maykes the soul loose and not stayble, more delycate and easyly damaged further. Bruising and tarnishing and wear may also occur by contact with the Darke withoute partaking in its evil. Damage to the soul will make a Wyzard unstayble of the mind, have obsession wyth a single thought or thing, or encourage a already unstayble mind into corruption further. Logic and romantick love are the first emotions to be loste, followed swiftly thereafter by the other 'human' faculties such as reason and empathy. These are replaced by the will to dominate, and the absolute assurance that this be a right and fit thyng to achieve, at whatever the cost._

_The protections applyed to the Wardens are also used to protect the Enforcers of the Law. The protections that surrounds these Wyzards draw on the protection of the elemente of Earthe so that shoulde they be forced to kill in the defense of the people they do not suffer the same fate as those they try to capture."_

"My thanks, I have learnt what I need," said Harry softly. The book shivered slightly, closed its covers and lay still.

Harry scrubbed his face with both hands. It was clear to both wizards that the years in Azkaban without the protections afforded to the Wardens of Azkaban and the Auror Division had seriously damaged the stability of Sirius Black's mind. Although in Severus opinion, he had never been that sane to begin with.


	22. Marcus

The aftermath of the Obliviation of the Potions Master and the escape of Sirius Black was felt by all. Rules changed about where and when one could go – curfew times where made earlier for students, and staff patrolled in pairs rather than singly. The students didn't object to earlier curfews however, the nights were dark and cold and all would rather be huddled in their Common Rooms in front of the fires than roaming the cold corridors. Defence Against the Dark Arts covered personal shielding spells for the Fourth Year upwards, and Charms included those of a defensive kind for all students.

The Yule celebrations neared, as did the birth of Tiggy's offspring, although only she and the Council knew she was carrying more than one child. She caught Severus looking speculatively at her rounded stomach occasionally, but she knew that as he had never seen a pregnant Elf he had no idea that she was larger than most Elves at this stage of the gestation. The Great Hall was being decorated by battalions of Elves, whilst Tiggy preferred to do her Master's chambers by herself. She hummed while she worked, tying sprigs of holly and fir to roof beams and draping red and green ribbons around the rooms. Severus preferred his decorations to be understated rather than effusive like in the Great Hall, which was being festooned with sparkles and a twenty foot tree. This year, Tiggy had added some sandalwood strips to her green springs and added a few drops of Clementine oil to each. The result was a tastefully decorated set of rooms that smelt of Yule and the celebrations to come, without being overpowering.

Harry was looking forward to Yule, but had no idea what to give his father as a gift. Severus had a large budget to spend on rare ingredients if he so wished, brewed his own toiletries and had an already extensive library. That ruled out the standard presents. Draco wasn't a lot of help; he usually bought his Godfather a book voucher to spend in Flourish & Blotts. Marcus had what was perhaps the best advice – to try and make something or do something that showed Severus that Harry thought of him, much like Severus had with the beautiful pair of pocket watches he had purchased. Marcus was staying at the Castle for Yule in order to stay away from his abusive father; Harry had already badgered his father to let Marcus spend part of the Solstice day with them. A traditional Wizarding Yule Day was split into three parts – breakfast, which was usually partaken in large groups of friends; lunch, which was for the extended family, and dinner, which was for close family only. At each meal, gifts were exchanged as tokens of friendship and goodwill. Tiggy had a wonderful meal planned for the evening, and Severus had already asked Marcus to join them for lunch. Marcus had been a bit reluctant to break tradition and join them for a meal that was meant to be for family until Severus pointed out that Harry had specifically asked for him to be present as all the rest of his year had gone home for the holidays and as a Slytherin, Harry felt him to be part of the extended family. As a result, Marcus redoubled his efforts to help Harry with a Yule present for his father. The pair spent several hours a day in the library, invariably joined by Hermione, who appeared to be taking advantage of the fact that Draco wasn't following her with yet another genealogy book.

"So what are you actually looking for?" she asked when she found the pair at the same table for the third day in a row, looking slightly desperate behind an enormous pile of books on Wizarding Tradition.

"Good question!" muttered Harry. Marcus had given him quite the crash course in Wizarding Traditions in the last three days; however they hadn't found something to suit their needs for a present for Severus. "It's all fascinating, I wish there was a "Wizard Studies" course for Muggle-born and –raised students, I never realised the reason Severus always seemed angry with me in Potions: unintentionally I was being very rude."

"Really?" Hermione looked shocked, although Harry's smirk betrayed his thoughts – was she annoyed because there was something she should know and didn't, or that she was being rude to her teachers?

Hermione immediately sat down in an armchair with the largest tome and started devouring its pages. Harry and Marcus settled back down to their research, the quiet punctuated only by the turning of pages and the occasional "my goodness" or similar from the corner Hermione had sequestered herself in.

Wizarding Tradition seemed to come in four main parts: family, friends and acquaintances, courting and adversaries. Family traditions ranged from meals to have on one's Naming day, words and actions to be completed by parents upon their offspring's first sign of magic, to ideas for funeral rites. There were inevitably overlaps – many of the rites and meals to have with one's friends could also be used in a family setting. Harry found a reference in one book he thought looked promising and went off down the stacks to find it. As soon as he was out of sight, Hermione closed her book with a snap and sat down at the table with Marcus. She waited until he made eye contact before she spoke.

"I'd like your advice on a good reference guide to Wizarding Courtship," she said, blushing madly.

"You learn quickly Granger, I'll give you that. Do you realize that most of the antagonism between our houses is because we think Gryffindors are rude? They speak before making eye contact, if they bother at all. To one brought up in the strictest traditions, that is incredibly rude. Our body language and refusal to acknowledge what has been said tends to infuriate rather than highlight the break in custom. In answer to your question, I will ask one of my own. Why?"

"I want to do it right. I don't want to offend him before we've even got started."

"This may sound strange Granger, given your upbringing in the Muggle world…" he held up a hand as Hermione opened her mouth to object to this. No, let me finish – see? That's another trait we abhor: if you ask for advice, do not interrupt while it is being given; for the one giving advice it shows you have no intention of following said advice and devalues what had been offered. Why then would one bother in giving it?"

Hermione was silent, and merely nodded. It made sense, but it took a lot of self control not to reply verbally.

"Good," Marcus smiled at her. "I bet you're sitting on your hands though in order to keep still and quiet."

Hermione blushed even harder than previously and Marcus laughed.

"Thought so. Now, as I was saying, your upbringing in the Muggle world has meant that your view of courtship is a little skewed with Muggle perception. Whilst you may not completely _agree_ with some of the things I'll tell you, or the things you're going to read in the books I recommend, you have to remember your perceptions are coming from the Muggle point of view. The point is, Granger, is that you are _not_ a Muggle. You are a Witch and a Witch with magical ancestors stretching way back into time. Don't look at me like that, we all have, I know the origin of so-called "Muggle-born" Wizards and Witches. As a Witch therefore, the customs and traditions you want to try and bring with you, the ideas you have about things that are and aren't right need to change."

He watched as she digested this.

"But I am a Muggle-born Witch – it's part of who I am, part of _me_ is Muggle because I grew up in that environment: nurture rather than nature."

"True, but your _nature_ is magical. You are a Witch, I am a Wizard. What is the difference between us? Apart from the obvious physical ones?"

"Well obviously, you're a pure-blood, I'm a Muggle-born. You're a couple of years older than me as well."

"No Granger. There is _no_ difference between us, except my knowledge of Wizarding Traditions. The reason so many pure-blood families are against Muggle-borns is their ignorance and therefore dilution of our customs. Do you know why the Professor always calls you an "insufferable know-it-all"? By not standing, or at least sitting up straighter when addressed by a Professor, you were rude. By not waiting for eye contact before you opened your mouth to speak you were disrespectful and by reciting the book you de-valued the hard-won knowledge you were repeating by not fully appreciating it and putting it in your own terms. Most of all, not thinking to look up these courtesies in the readily available materials here in the Library was the gravest insult of them all."

Hermione's jaw dropped in shock. She had not realised she had been that rude! No wonder he always seemed to have it in for her! She closed her jaw with a snap.

"That's why he calls on me in class. That's why he calls me names. It makes sense now!" excitedly she leapt from her seat and took a step back towards her book. Marcus watched as comprehension flickered across her face. She turned to face him fully, and made a small bow.

"I apologise. You were offering advice and I turned my back on you before you had finished instructing me," she sat down, made a point of showing him her hands and then promptly sat on them again. "I'd like you to continue if you'd be so kind."

Marcus returned her bow with a nod of the head. "A little stilted, but you'll do. The vast majority of the day-to-day customs are simple manners. Have a read of a book about bowing though to get that right. As for courting, which I believe was our original topic – let him do the running. It is the Wizard's task to woo the Witch, not the other way round. _He_ is supposed to impress _you_. Let him. The courting rites and customs apply mostly to Wizards, your responses are supposed to be from the heart. Once you've a good idea of the courtesies – nodding, bowing, eye contact, and body language, you'll find a lot of other things become easier. Ever been abroad Granger? To France or Spain for example?"

Hermione nodded and visibly struggled not to launch into a lengthy reminiscence of a past holiday.

"Noticed how the locals will help you with mispronunciation or erroneous verb conjugation if you at least _try_ to speak their language?" He smirked at the dawning understanding on the Gryffindor's face.

"If I get something a little wrong, that is better than not doing it at all. And I will learn better from those who know it instinctively as they correct me than I would from a book."

"Exactly. Here," Marcus scribbled a brief list on a scrap of parchment. "These few will give you a good grounding in the basics, the rest you should pick up fairly easily."

"Thank you!" Hermione took the list from his hand and gave him another quick bob of the head to show her appreciation.

Marcus listened to her slow measured footsteps recede until she thought he couldn't hear her, and then speed up as she ran to the appropriate section in the library. He was still chuckling to himself when Harry returned with a slim volume in his hand and a huge grin on his face.

Harry's questioning glance was met with a smirk. "I think you'll see a change in Granger – she's going to learn the Wizarding courtesies instead of clinging to her Muggle upbringing. Whilst I agree in not forgetting where you come from, you have to embrace where you are."

Harry nodded in understanding – Severus had started to instruct him in proper Wizarding courtesy as soon as he could. Harry figured Hermione was as shocked as he had been at his unintentional impoliteness.

"I think I've found it!" said Harry, opening the book he carried to the page he had marked and showing his friend.

The book Harry had found was one Marcus had not thought of, simply because the rites were for younger children. Upon further thought however, he realised what Harry had found was perfect. Whilst the Professor was a half-blood, he had embraced his Wizarding heritage and no pure-blood could fault his manners.

The rite Harry was indicating was one used by young Wizards usually at the time of their second bloom of power, when one was able to consciously control their magic in order to do something instead of accidental magic. The rite itself was to strengthen the magical bond between father and son, the soul bond that occurred naturally. Witches usually performed the rite when they started menstruating and the rite was between mother and daughter.

"Given how little time we have left, where will I find the things I need? And what about Severus? Parents know when their sons are ready, so have the family crest ring ready. I don't know if he even has one."

"Leave the planning of that to me. As for what you need, we need to talk to the Professor's elf and we need to ask for use of one of the Potion's Labs to make the oil. The rest we can do ad hoc, with magic, it's the intent that counts."

Harry grinned at him, a bright, brilliant smile that seemed to light up everything around him. Marcus returned it hesitantly at first but was soon returning Harry's grin with one of his own. Neither Slytherin noticed Hermione return from her foray in the shelves clutching several books on Wizarding Etiquette. She looked between the two for several seconds before retreating.


	23. Hagrid

_A/N; Yes, I know. It's been AGES. I had real trouble with this chapter for some reason, and I'm still not entirely pleased with it. Things should start moving on now that this is out of the way however._

Later that afternoon, after explaining why they needed it, Marcus, Harry and a very pregnant Tiggy made their way to the dungeons armed with a pot of salt, a candle, a pot of incense, a flask containing water from the Lake and a permission slip from a misty-eyed McGonagall to use one of the Potions Labs set up for student's use. Harry needed to make a herb infused oil with which he and Severus would anoint themselves during the rite, and prepare a bundle of sweet-smelling woods, each of which would have a significance that Harry would present to Severus at the rite's completion. The rest of the things needed for the rite could be substituted – as long as the intent was there.

Harry took out his potions' knife to perform the blessing and cleansing ritual described in the book. He would use this to shred the herbs for the oil and to take the wood cuttings.

With Marcus' help, he drew a circle on the floor of the classroom. It was a little wobbly as in places they had to go around immovable desks. Next Harry sprinkled the knife with salt and spoke the words to cleanse the blade and bless it in the name of Earth. Next was incense to cleanse and bless in the name of air, then the candle flame for fire, followed by the water. The last words of the ritual were to consecrate the knife in the name of the God and Goddess.

With that done, Harry stamped three times on the floor and smudged one portion of the circle to break it.

"Phew! That was harder than I expected. How do young children manage this?" he said, sounding slightly out of breath.

"You are used to channelling your magic through your wand Master Harry. Children doing this rite will not have become accustomed to that, it felt difficult for you because you are not used to it."

Harry filed that little bit of knowledge way and focussed on his next task – the oil. Fortunately it was a fairly simple procedure, requiring a low flame simply to warm the base oil and a sprinkling of different herbs finely shredded by the newly blessed potions' knife.

With the book's help, the oil was quickly completed and they sat down with a reference guide, supplemented with Tiggy's encyclopaedic knowledge to discuss which woods Harry would use.

"So, Ivy, Oak, Rowan and Eucalyptus. Ideally we need three more, seven is a powerful number. Mahogany?"

"Good for emotional healing," said Marcus reading from the book in front of him.

"However it can be brittle Master Harry," said Tiggy quietly.

"Maybe not then. How about birch? I've always liked the smell of birch."

"Truth," said Marcus.

"Regeneration and new beginnings, perhaps the most appropriate of all we have chosen."

"I like it! Brilliant! With Plum and Bamboo. No, Pear and Bamboo," said Harry.

"A potent combination of love and protection. Very good choices," said Tiggy. "What to bind with?"

"Hazel."

"Perfect," said Marcus. "Now we just need to collect them. Some we will be able to get from Professor Sprout and her greenhouses, some we will need to be escorted to the edge of the Forest for and some Tiggy can help us locate from the orchards the Elves use to provide us with fruit."

The unlikely trio lead by Tiggy made their way to the orchards and gardens the Elves tended to feed the castle. Part of the magic of Hogwarts was devoted to keeping the winter weather from ruining the crops. Vast swathes of the hillside had been cultivated, providing fresh vegetables and fruit for the castle's occupants. Elves worked away in the beds, weeding and harvesting a staggering variety of food.

The walk up to the fruit orchards was a fairly steep one and both Slytherins were quickly out of breath, unlike the heavily pregnant Tiggy, who skipped along with all the vigour of a child.

"Why aren't you tired?" asked Harry when they paused for yet another break in order for the two boys to get their breath back.

"The magics of the Earth Master Harry. Humans tend to ignore them unless they can be harnessed. Where things grow, Earth is strong. Elves are of the Earth so She nourishes us. All thr…all of us," she said rubbing her distended stomach lovingly. She hoped neither boy noticed her slip – she had nearly let loose the secret of her twins.

The wood from the fruit trees was fairly easy to obtain, although Harry had a few bruises and a sore behind following a fall from a pear tree. The smirks from his companions did nothing to soothe his injured pride. Following the book's suggestion, Harry thanked each tree after taking his cutting. A healthy sprig of Ivy was found on their way back to the castle from a vigorous tangle of the plant growing around an unidentifiable statue close to the back of Greenhouse Four. Harry thanked the plant and followed his friends. Walking round the front of the greenhouse, the odd trio went in search of Professor Sprout. They eventually found her in Greenhouse Two taking cuttings from the Iridescent Rhododendrons as they ended their flowering cycle. The dumpy Herbology Professor had smudges of soil and compost on her face and on her robes, as well as multicoloured sparkling seeds in her hair and stuck to her clothing. She smiled when they opened the door of the greenhouse, but ushered them inside quickly.

"Come in, come in, close the door, don't let the heat out or the…." she was interrupted by a large barrage of sneezes from the other side of the greenhouse. She sighed. "The Honking Daffodils have caught a cold. They aren't supposed to be in flower this time of year but the Headmaster insisted…now I've got a whole crop that can't honk properly." She bustled off to wipe the daffodils and was greeted by a series of noises that ranged from a muffled snort to what sounded like a duck lure played underwater.

Trying not to laugh, Harry followed her, leaving Marcus by the door sniggering to himself.

"Um, Professor Sprout, I'm doing the Coming of Age Rite and wondered if you'd be able to let me have a sprig of Bamboo and Eucalyptus please?"

Professor Sprout turned to him in surprise, soggy tissue still in hand. "Coming of Age? But you're…oh…I see. Yes, I think I can accommodate you." She gave him a watery smile and dabbed at her eyes with her free hand, although given the state of her hands all that really meant was that she spread compost a little more across her face. "This way Potter."

Harry smiled to himself as she led him through a covered walkway connecting Greenhouse Two with Greenhouse One. He understood what Severus had said earlier in the year – some people simply forgot every now and then that he was no longer a Potter. It wasn't a slight against his adopted Father, simply a human error that would fade in time as everyone became accustomed. Professor Sprout showed him to a quiet corner where he could see a healthy stand of Bamboo growing. There seemed to be more than one variety, some had darker leaves and swayed and rustled as though in a stiff breeze. He gave the professor a questioning look.

"You've chosen Bamboo for protection I assume? Good choice. What we have here is Whispering Bamboo as well as species Robusta, which I grow to provide canes for the runner beans among other things. Both would suffice for your purposes."

Harry nodded and took a sprig from the Robusta, simply because he was more familiar with the variety, it looked very similar to one he had tended regularly at Privet Drive. He thanked the plant and for a moment it seemed as if the Whispering Bamboo stilled before rustling more vigorously than before.

"Now, as I am sure you are aware, the Eucalypts around Hogwarts are used for two things mainly, potions ingredients and the deadwood is used to supplement the firewood – as a very hardwood it burns wonderfully. For what you need however, I think a sprig in leaf would be most appropriate. As luck would have it, I have several saplings I am cultivating to replenish the Forest – they are large enough that we can take a cutting without harming them."

Professor Sprout led the way back into Greenhouse Two and came to a sudden halt. Marcus and Tiggy had obviously tried to continue with her task of wiping up after the daffodils. Unfortunately, it appeared that the plants had objected and had tried their best to honk. The resulting mess was impressive. Tiggy appeared to be stuck to the floor and a very sticky Marcus was trying to free his arms to reach his wand.

Harry didn't bother to contain his laughter as Professor Sprout waved her wand to clean the indignant pair whilst desperately trying to look professional with a grin threatening to escape, and shooed the three of them out of the greenhouse before the Daffodils sneezed again.

The three of them wandered across the grounds towards Hagrid's hut, Harry still hiccupping laughter occasionally. Harry wanted to ask Hagrid if he would escort them to the edge of the Forest so that he could collect samples of Oak, Rowan, Birch and Hazel.

If Hagrid was surprised by the request of two Slytherin boys and a pregnant House Elf, he didn't show it. Marcus and Tiggy hung back while Harry and Hagrid chatted on the way to the edge of the Forest. Fang nosed the ground in front of them as they walked, presumably looking for something nice to roll in.

"Slytherin then? I woul'n't 'a though' tha' when I me' yer. Still, yer seem in one piece. They treatin' you alrigh'?" asked the half-giant with a worried look on his face. "Is i' really what yer wanted?"

Harry looked up at the man who had given him his first birthday present with a smile and gave him the same answer he had given Ginny.

"It suits me. More than Gryffindor did I think, although it's hard to equate the two."

Hagrid nodded as though he understood, but Harry could see he clearly didn't.

"And Ron 'n' 'ermione, wha' do they think of i'?"

"Hermione's fine, I really think she understands. Ron...not so much."

Harry looked away. There were times when it seemed like Ron had almost forgotten that he wasn't in the same House any more. Usually when Hermione was nagging him to do his homework, or reciting a textbook. He would catch Harry's eye and they would exchange a grin or a shrug of the shoulders. In the unspoken language of boys, it was a camaraderie Harry missed. Slytherins didn't overtly show their feelings in the same way, although it was always there to see if one knew how to look. However, Ron seemed still angry for the accusation Draco had levelled at him about the comb (at least that's the only thing Harry could assume) however his attitude towards Hermione had also shifted somewhat. Harry could spend hours watching the two of them interact, and yet if Draco spoke to Hermione, Ron would react in ways Harry didn't understand. The one time he had tried to ask Ron what was wrong, his former friend had rounded on him and angrily told him to mind his own business if he didn't already know what the problem was. Harry had not asked since.

Hagrid grunted in understanding. "'e 'olds a grudge tha' one. 'e'll come round eventually."

Harry nodded. Ron had been a good friend, but seemed incapable of letting go of his prejudices, or ideas – like Draco and Professor Snape being evil. Time would have to solve it, because Harry didn't know how.

Having reached the very edge of the Forest, the four of them walked along the boundary looking for what they needed. Ideally they would not have to enter the Forest; whilst Hagrid may be safe, two underage wizards and a House Elf in the latter stages of gestation would present little problem for some of the Forest's denizens.

The Birch was the first and easiest to find, its silvery white bark seemed to almost glow in the weak afternoon sun. Harry selected a thin whippy piece from a short sapling and cut it. He spread some of a plant healing compound Hagrid had given him across the wound with his hand and whispered his thanks to the tree

They found an Oak tree next, a smallish one yet to develop a full crown of braches. It had no leaves at this time of year, so it was fairly easy to check for evidence of Bowtruckles before taking a piece. Hagrid bent a branch of new growth down towards Harry, who hadn't been looking forward to another tree climbing expedition after the pear tree. He selected a stoutish shoot and cut it cleanly. He spread more of the healing slave and thanked the tree. He cast a nervous look at the weather which seemed to be deteriorating. Dark clouds the colour of blued steel were descending the mountains and the air held the metallic scent of imminent snow. A chill breeze was now blowing, making him shiver.

The Rowan was a little easier to find simply due to the brilliant red berries hanging in bunches from its branches. It was a tree too small to be of interest to a Bowtruckle yet, so it's donation to the growing collection in Tiggy's hand was quickly and easily acquired. The wind was blowing more strongly now, and even Tiggy was casting frequent looks at the sky, trying to judge if their task would be complete before the weather broke.

The Hazel proved elusive however, and by the time they had found a small shrubby Hazel, the weather had definitely turned. Given the season there were no leaves on the trees and they had mistaken a Wych Elm for Hazel until Hagrid had spotted that the young branches were not the right colour. As Harry spread the healing salve on the tree, the first snowflake spiralled out of the sky, quickly followed by more. By the time the oddly match group were trudging back to wards the Castle, the snow was falling heavily and covering everything in a thick white carpet.

Hagrid escorted them as far as the main doors and turned back towards his hut for a large mug of tea with a healthy dollop of brandy in it. Harry, Marcus and Tiggy slipped in the doors, dried and warmed themselves with magic and simply stood there watching the snow fall.

"It looks so peaceful," mused Harry, whose only good memories associated with snow were the snowball fights he and Ron had taken part in over the last two years. His aunt had always taken great delight in shoving her skinny nephew out 'to play' when it was snowing dressed only in short sleeves, jeans and trainers while Dudley sat on the sofa watching TV or playing computer games wrapped in a blanket. Shaking himself from the memories, Harry turned from the sight of the snow falling across the school grounds and headed for the nearest corridor leading to the dungeons. Footsteps behind him told him Tiggy and Marcus were following.

Back in the dungeon classroom they had appropriated for their use, Harry wrapped the bundle he had made with the Hazel twig and held it out in front of him. After double-checking the book to make sure he had the words right in his mind, he spoke the words and concentrated on focussing his magic on the bundle in his hand. In a flash of golden light, the sprigs were united, bound together with a hazel strip of wood.

"And that, Harry Snape, is a child's besom. Brooms are for riding, besoms are spiritual and symbolic items, each made for a purpose. You really are a Wizard now!" Tiggy smiled at him and ignored Marcus' snigger at her comment about brooms.


	24. Yule

_A/N: Another chapter! I hope things to go a little more smoothly now, however I am on holiday for a fortnight so won't be able to post anything until I get back. I'm hoping that I'll be able to get some writing done whilst on the beach _

Dawn broke on a cold snowy Yule morning. Harry dressed nervously. This evening, at the intimate family dinner he planned to tell Severus about his wish to do the Coming of Age rite. He was a little apprehensive about Severus' reaction despite Tiggy's assurances that his efforts would be appreciated.

He gathered up the gifts he was giving to his friends at breakfast. Ron had gone home for the holidays, as had Draco, but Hermione and Neville would be there, as would Marcus.

The two Snapes entered the Great Hall together. The decorations were as over the top as Severus had feared. The House tables had been replaced by a single long table down the length of the Hall, draped in red and green with white place settings. The rafters had been covered in multicoloured tinsel and the enormous tree filled one corner. The ceiling reflected the sky outside: a swathe of grey cloud heavy with snow, with large fat snowflakes spiralling down. Harry and Severus placed their gifts under the overly large tree and took their places at the table as the rest of the teachers and the students arrived. Headmaster Dumbledore was the first to arrive, wearing a robe of silver and gold with stars and snowflakes on. The students staying at the Castle trickled in slowly, having enjoyed a lie-in. Professors McGonagall and Sprout arrived together, both wearing robes in muted shades of green. Harry noticed both women had a symbol on their left sleeves, but couldn't get a good view. Whilst trying to work out what it was, Marcus plonked himself down in the seat next to him.

"Joyous Yule Friend."

Harry jumped having not realised Marcus was there. He was getting better with his reactions, but when surprised he would still jump or flinch. It was a reaction he wasn't sure he really wanted to lose as it had saved him from being hurt in the past. He recovered himself and smiled at his friend, and replied with the traditional reply to the ritual greeting.

"And to you Friend, may your Yule be Joyous also."

The two boys grinned at each other.

"What's the symbol on Professors McGonagall and Spout's sleeve? I can't see it properly and I don't recognise it from Runes class."

Marcus peered around Harry to look at Sprout who was the nearest of the two witches in question, sat two places down from Snape. He narrowed his eyes as Professor Sprout reached for the butter at the request of someone further down the table. The folds of material round her wrist made it hard to work out the shape of the symbol. As she passed the butter dish down the table, the symbol became clear as the material tautened. Marcus' sharp intake of breath was covered by Dumbledore's Yule greeting to everyone, now that the table was full.

"Joyous Yule Friends!"

"And to you Friend, may your Yule be Joyous also!" replied the whole table.

"Let us eat and celebrate!" cried Dumbledore, showering the table with red, green and silver sparks.

With the usual golden shimmer of house elf magic, the table was suddenly groaning with food. A vast variety of dishes had been prepared, everything from bacon and eggs to the traditional fruit and nut bread, porridge to smoked fish. Harry dived into a pile of eggs and bacon with relish, but served himself a small plate of the traditional bread and the smoked fish. If he was going to do Yule properly he decided, then he ought to eat some of the proper foods. He caught Marcus' approving look at the side plate and grinned at the older boy, who was also attacking the bacon with gusto.

All too soon, the food had been eaten and the table sat talking to each other, the first years scattered in between the older students and the teachers shyly at first but gaining confidence quickly. Dumbledore stood and waved his wand in the direction of the large hearth to one side of the hall next to the over-effusive Yule tree. A roaring fire sprang up and several large soft sofas popped into existence.

"Friends, shall we?"

Everyone stood and made their way to the sofas, laughing and smiling, happily full from the meal.

Seated in his squishy armchair decorated with snowflakes to match his robe, Dumbledore flicked his wand once more and the presents under the tree floated to their recipients.

Harry had several: Hermione, Draco, Ginny and two from his fellow Slytherin year mates. He would receive his gift from Marcus at lunch, and from Severus at dinner. His face fell when he realised the ever-present Weasley jumper wasn't among his gifts. The rift between he and Ron was evidently not as healed as he thought. Marcus had one he wasn't expecting – Hermione had sent him a gift. Marcus raised a questioning eyebrow to Harry who returned the gesture. Neither had any idea why Hermione had sent it.

The two boys tore into their presents. Harry had received a new set of glass potion stirrers from Draco, a book from Hermione (no surprise there) and a charmed journal with a big black eye on the front from Ginny. She had written a dedication on the frontispiece.

"_To Harry, hoping you've found what you need where you are. This is charmed to be for your eyes only – speak the charm on the first page while looking at the eye on the front and it will recognise your magic. It isn't fooled by Imperius or Polyjuice so you can write in safety. I know _something _happened to you over the summer; if you can't talk about it, write it down. Don't worry about my stupid brother, I've told Mum the truth and your jumper is under construction. All my love Ginny x"_

Blushing slightly at the way she had signed the note, Harry turned the page and read the charm on the first page several times, quizzing Marcus on correct pronunciation a couple of times when he stumbled over the unfamiliar words. He closed the journal and gazed at the black orb.

"Nisi cognosceret mihi. Quia oculi mei tantum."

The eye on the front of the Journal glowed white, searing his eyes with its brilliance. When his vision cleared again, the eye on the journal was a brilliant green to match his own.

"Brilliant, can I see?" ask Marcus.

Harry happily passed the journal to his friend, still seeing spots. He wasn't prepared for Marcus' reaction. As soon as Harry's hand had left the book, it gave Marcus a mild shock, causing him to yell and suck his fingers where it had zapped him. Harry grabbed the journal from the floor where Marcus had dropped it and looked at his fellow Slytherin; along with everyone else, who had paused their gift opening at his shout. Harry started to laugh at the look on Marcus' face.

"'S no' 'unny 'arry!" said Marcus indistinctly round his burned fingers still in his mouth.

His muffled admonishment only caused Harry to laugh louder, and he was joined by Severus.

"Mr Flint, I can assure you that it is, most definitely, funny," said the Potion's Master, rummaging in his robe and retrieving some burn cream from one of his multitude of pockets. He passed it to the indignant sixth year, who nodded in thanks and removed his fingers from his mouth to spread some of the pungent cream on his burnt fingers.

"Do I want to know why you have burn cream in your pocket?" asked Harry cheekily.

Severus drew himself up stiffly (as much as he could while seated) and intoned sternly. "Since adopting a former Gryffindor, I carry the equivalent of a medical emergency kit with me wherever I go. I know how good you are at getting into trouble."

Harry gaped at him and then burst into fresh peals of laughter. Severus looked on in exasperation, tinged with amusement. It was good to hear Harry laughing again, after the dreadful things he had experienced, Severus had wondered if it would kill the boyish fun that should be in every teenager. Apparently he needn't have worried.

Still grinning broadly, Harry started to open his last two presents. Once was from Pansy Parkinson, a girl who seemed to hang around with Draco whenever she could and was quite vocal on her thoughts of the pure-blooded Malfoy hanging around with lower life-forms such as Granger. She was alright in her own way, but tended to be a little gullible. She had given him a book on pure-blood genealogy, not a great surprise. The other gift he had received was from Theodore Nott, a quiet boy who was another under the care of Marcus, for the same reason – a child of a Death Eater family who had no intention of joining "that mad megalomaniac" in his bid for world domination. Theo spent two nights a week in the Infirmary receiving a form of physical therapy on his joints and tendons, after repeated bouts of the cruciatus as punishment over the summer, Theo had a permanent tremor in his hands, which had ruined any prospects he may have had towards becoming a potions Master as he wished. His joints showed early stages of a form of arthritis and caused him pain in cold weather. Harry had been shocked when he realised just how many of the children of Death Eaters had no intention of joining Voldemort. Like the rest of the school, he had viewed all Slytherins as "Death Eaters in the making" if they hadn't been inducted already. Even Pansy, for all her belief in the pure-blood ideals, had no wish to join a group that forced pure-bloods to grovel in the dirt in order to achieve their goals.

Theo had bought Harry a set of charmed potions vials. There were five in the set, and they were charmed to be unbreakable, and would automatically shrink to pendant size once hung round the neck on the chain provided. Harry was a little confused as to what he could use them for, but the set was taken from his hands by Severus before he had even a chance to ponder it. Severus stood to go through his pockets effectively, but quickly produced from his variety of pockets a staggering selection of potions, salves, creams and herbs. He began muttering to himself about what would be the five most useful of the twenty or so he had. As he whittled the selection down, the vials not to be used disappeared back into his pockets. His selection process was briefly halted when Poppy Pomfrey spotted a grey looking sludge in a small vial and snatched it up for closer examination.

"Cardiacum? Severus, just how badly injured to you expect him to be whilst in school?"

Severus grabbed the vial back from her and replaced it in a pocket with a sneer.

"One never knows with him."

Harry watched the exchange with interest.

"What does that one do then?" he asked.

"It restarts the heart. If one administers soon enough after death, provided death was not due to advanced age, it will sustain the heart for about twenty-four hours. This is usually enough time to solve the problem that caused death."

Harry blinked in shock. He sat stunned, and barely heard Pomfrey's irritated rejoinder.

"But there's enough in there to keep a _giant_ alive for a month!"

Severus huffed in annoyance and knelt down in front of Harry, still sat on the sofa with his mouth open.

"Do close your mouth Snape, or you will catch flies."

Harry closed his mouth with a snap. He looked at Severus, knelt in front of him looking slightly uncomfortable.

"I will take no risks with your safety young man. If that means carrying potions only used to extend life, then so be it."

Harry launched himself at the man and wrapped his arms around him. Harry's momentum overbalanced the Potion's Master and the two of them fell backwards onto the floor. Severus returned the embrace and surreptitiously wiped the tears from Harry's face.

The two of them clambered back to their feet and took their places on the sofa once more. Severus decanted four potions from his stock into the vials Theo had given Harry.

"Blood replenisher, Invigoration Draught, Essence of Dittany, and a Cure for Common and Uncommon Poisons. Yes I know you learn about them separately, but I am a Potions Master after all."

"What about the fifth vial?" asked Harry.

"You and I are going to brew some Felix Felicis," smirked Severus.

"Some what? Err, lucky lucky?" Harry looked confused as he tried to translate.

"Liquid Luck," Said Severus. "It takes about 6 months to brew, but I have the base completed under stasis, we should have a completed brew in about a month or so."

"Awesome!" Harry looked suitably impressed.

Marcus had opened his gift from Hermione to find a book on courtship. He read the title, blushed most un-Slytherin like, and hurriedly stashed it behind him. Harry peered round him and caught a glimpse of the title before his friend shifted it from view. Hermione had bought him a courtship book – "How to Win Your Wizard – a Wizards' Guide". Harry looked at Marcus' embarrassed face and suddenly made sense of what Marcus had been trying to tell him all those months ago. The reason Marcus didn't know what to say to the person he liked was that that person was a wizard! Whilst Harry knew that homosexuality was (more-or-less) accepted in the Muggle world, apart from some places due to religious reasons, the wizarding world was far more unaccepting – mostly because decent pure-blooded wizards were supposed to find a decent pure-blooded wife and settle down to have pure-blooded children. Procreation was the order of the day as far as wizarding marriage was concerned, and marrying for love was an added bonus. Wizards marrying wizards was frowned upon if only because of the obvious problems with the continuation of the family name. Wizard-Wizard marriages usually occurred with second or third sons, those whose elder siblings had already provided heirs for the family. Marcus as an only child would face fierce opposition from his family. Harry nodded and gave his friend what he hoped was a supportive smile, and then turned back to Severus, who was unwrapping a gift from Dumbledore.

It was a small box, tied closed with a green and silver ribbon. When he opened it, he gasped in surprise. Inside there was a large signet ring with an unfamiliar coat of arms.

Marcus leaned over to Harry and whispered in his ear.

"Told you I'd sort that bit."

Harry looked again at the ring; it was easier to see now Severus had removed it from its box. The ring seemed to have bits he recognised, like the lion on one side of the shield, and a symbol: a triangle with a circle inside it, with a line through both of them. He had spotted both on the Potter coat of arms on something in his vault the previous year.

Some of the other images on the ring were evidently elements from Severus' own personal coat of arms – he had the crown of the Prince line but also a cauldron as befitted his Mastery of Potions, and the snake of Slytherin. The snake was supporting the other side of the shield.

Severus looked up to Dumbledore, who smiled.

"The Heralds were quite surprised when your blood produced a different coat of arms to last time Severus – Harry has adopted you, as well as the other way round. There are parts of the Potter and Peverell crest on there as well as Prince and your own. A little bird told me you might need that."

Severus nodded and put the ring on his left little finger, where it size adjusted and fit snugly. He looked over to Harry who was still trying to examine the design. He held out his hand and let Harry look, and watched everyone else present open their gifts. Dumbledore had received a vast selection of woolly socks, and most of the students present had received either sweets or books from their friends.

Once the wrapping paper had been cleared away, Harry and Professor Sprout settled down to a game of chess. Harry was still nowhere near Ron's standard, but with constant instruction from Severus and some of his more impulsive tendencies quashed by not taking _magus conculco_. Whilst Harry no longer trusted Dumbledore as he once had, the man seemed to be making a genuine effort to build the bridges between them. Dumbledore had made sure that the progress reports regarding the trial of his uncle and the men involved in the child pornography ring had gone to Severus instead of to Harry directly. Severus had been feeding information back to Harry in pieces, to allow him time to process each piece of information before divulging the rest. Given how hurt Harry had been, Severus had explained that he didn't want to overload Harry with the information, a decision that Harry had readily agreed to. He wanted to forget what had happened to him, not have to worry about it all the time, and although he appreciated Severus screening the information for him, he would rather not know at all. He knew it wasn't entirely healthy, but forgetting it had happened was preferable to having to deal with it properly.

Several hours and quite a few games lot to a variety of teachers later, Severus, Marcus and Harry made their way down to the dungeons for the traditional light lunch. Marcus darted into the Slytherin dorms to deposit his book in a safe place before joining the Snapes in their quarters. They dined on roasted winter squash soup and toasted brown bread studded with nuts and seeds. None of them wanted a large lunch after the feast they had eaten for breakfast.

They moved into the sitting room and sat on the sofas to open their presents from each other. Harry had bought Marcus a set of Muggle weights to use in his training, Severus gave him an envelope which contained an offer of an apprenticeship to Professor Vector, the Runes Mistress. The older boy's eyes gleamed with unshed tears. He had stayed at Hogwarts to repeat his final year having failed his exams, but to any that knew him, that had been because he'd been cursed by his father. An apprenticeship would free him from having to return to his father after the end of term, and allow him to follow his love of Ancient Runes.

"Thank you sir. I can't explain how much this means to me."

Severus nodded, with a small smile on his face. It was always a good feeling to be able to protect one of his snakes from their home life, and this apprenticeship would allow Marcus to not only have a career and a life away from the Dark Lord, but it would allow him to stay at Hogwarts with his friend, Harry.

Marcus gave Severus a rare potions book, and Harry a set of proper duelling robes. They were tighter fitting than usual robes, designed not to restrict movement while duelling and had several charms built in, flame and water proofing, environmental charms to stop one getting too hot or cold, and a basic shielding charm that would deflect most minor hexes or jinxes. Harry was overjoyed with the robes and disappeared into his room to change into them to see how they looked.

While Harry changed, Severus rose from his seat and moved to where Marcus sat. He squeezed the young man's shoulder as he read and re-read the letter of apprenticeship in his hand.

"You deserve to live your own life, not have it decided for you."

Marcus nodded and sniffed most unattractively, which drew a chuckle from Severus, and the offer of a handkerchief. Marcus let out a watery laugh, and shook his head. He stood and drew his wand. He placed it over his heart and spoke.

"I swear upon my magic that I will defend your life and the life of your son, to my dying breath if need be."

Magic swirled around the room as his vow took effect.

"I acknowledge your vow," said Severus shakily. He had never been given such a gift.

Harry exited his room to find the two clasping each other's shoulders in what he recognised as a gesture of wizarding respect.

He did a swirl and was impressed by the way the robes didn't flare out, they were cut perfectly for fast movement and there was no danger of tripping over or getting caught on anything.

The two older Slytherins smiled, and Marcus nodded.

"They fit you well Harry."

Harry grinned and plonked himself back down on the sofa holding his chess set. The afternoon was spent playing chess, chatting and practising some defensive spells.

Marcus bid farewell to his friend and his Head of House at about six o'clock, he would dine in the Great Hall with the other students staying in the Castle. They would be his family for the evening.

Tiggy outdid herself for the final meal of the day. Garlic langoustine and seared scallops in butter were followed by a roast rib of beef, perfectly done medium rare, served with Yorkshire puddings, crispy roast potatoes and greens by the bowlful. A steamed pudding with nuts and fruit soaked in alcohol was deferred until later – neither wizard felt capable of doing it justice immediately.

They retired to the sofa, where Severus produced a letter addressed to Harry with the verdict of the Vernon Dursley trial. He had been imprisoned in a Muggle maximum security jail and would be denied parole for thirty-five years. He had been moved to maximum security due to fears for his life in the normal prison system – child abusers were usually killed by their fellow inmates. Harry read the letter with dry eyes, to Severus's concern. He simply nodded and put the letter to one side after giving it a cursory glance.

Harry nervously gave Severus a bundle that rustled, and a bottle. Severus gave Harry a smallish package. Harry opened the package, which contained a number of rare potion ingredients and a dagger engraved with various symbols. When Harry raised a questioning eyebrow in Snape's direction, Severus explained.

"You were a target for the Dark Lord and are now; therefore still one for his followers. I do not want you unarmed, even if they take your wand away from you. You and I will begin training with blades after the holiday."

Harry nodded and nervously waited for Severus to open his package. Severus watched him intently as he carefully opened the parcel. When the besom was revealed, Severus looked sharply at Harry and un-stoppered the bottle to sniff. Harry was making a detailed inspection of his shoes and would not meet Severus' eyes.

"Harry?"

"I err, I wanna do the Comingofagerite," muttered Harry, slightly too fast for Severus to catch.

"Can you repeat that?"

Face flaming hot with embarrassment Harry repeated his statement.

Severus sat dumbstruck, and glanced at the crest ring on his finger. Dumbledore's cryptic comment from breakfast made sense.

Severus grasped Harry's shoulder and spoke formally.

"My Son, you have reached your second bloom of magic. We shall complete the Coming of Age Rite together."

Harry grinned and threw his arms around his father for the second time that day.

If only their happiness could last.

A/N: Nisi cognosceret mihi. Quia oculi mei tantum – Only recognise me. For my eyes only


	25. Salva

_Yule Present for you all. I know it's been a while but I hope you enjoy._

Severus sat in his office, his head in his hands. Ten days ago everything seemed so full of life and joy.

The drama had started when Tristan had to go home shortly after Yule for a family funeral. He wasn't happy about spending any time with his family after the events of the summer, and Severus was even less happy about it if possible. Everyday Tristan did not return worried Severus more. He knew he was probably being irrational – the boy's family would send him back on the train for the start of term no doubt. But he worried none the less. He had not informed Harry yet that Tristan had been required to leave the Castle to visit his family. Harry had thoroughly enjoyed his first "proper" Yule, and they had completed the Coming of Age Rite together the following day. He'd had no desire to ruin the boy's good mood.

Harry had drawn a circle on the floor of the living room with chalk. They had chosen the living room for the rite as it was the biggest space in their rooms. Severus had found a small brazier in a store room with Tiggy's help and set it up in the centre of the circle. Together they had marked the four points, North, East, South and West, each with their elements, Earth, Air, Fire and Water. Dressed only in simple white robes and naked beneath, the two wizards entered the circle and closed it behind them. In silence, Harry had knelt and handed Severus the besom he had made. Severus had taken it from him and brushed Harry's hair and shoulders with it, to remove negativity. Severus had handed Harry the oil and Harry proceeded to dab Severus with it: forehead, throat, breastbone, hands and feet. Then he did the same for himself and the two of them moved to stand either side of the brazier facing each other. The ritual technically called for a candle made by Harry himself, but they had improvised with one of the large pillar candles usually used in the Great Hall. Harry had already inscribed their names on it with his freshly consecrated potions knife which was standing in for a bejewelled ritual athame, and now rubbed it with the herb oil and lit it from the brazier between them.

"Father, I have come into the Second Bloom of my magic."

Harry had blown out the candle and then relit it with a wordless, wandless Incendio. It had been a bit of a struggle for him Severus remembered, Harry was older than most children performing the Rite and his magic was too used to being channelled through a wand. Most wizards didn't bother learning wandless magic because after childhood it was very difficult, and most could only do minor things.

Severus had taken the candle from Harry's hands and set it on the floor. Holding Harry's consecrated knife, he carefully pierced the centre of Harry's palm, and then did the same to his own. He removed the signet ring from his little finger and the two Snapes clasped bloody hands holding the ring between them.

"Let it be known that my Son is a Wizard, now in his Second Bloom."

A golden glow formed around the circle, slowly filling the area within it. Once it surrounded them completely, the golden light started to focus on the ring clasped in their joined hands. The ring grew hot and with a final pulse of magic, grew larger and divided.

Severus held out his hand and nestled in his palm were now two signet rings. One gold and a smaller one in silver. The wound from the dagger was healed and there was no sign of the oil or blood. Harry took the smaller ring and they both placed them on their left little finger. They stepped away from each other and bowed.

"The Rite is complete, let any magic bound here be dispersed!" said Harry and erased a portion of the chalk circle with his foot.

They had spent the next few days working in one form or another. Harry's holiday homework was completed to a high standard, and Severus' lesson plans were finished. As he had promised, Severus had also begun teaching Harry the initial stages of self-defence and the art of wielding a blade.

On the day marked as Boxing Day by the Muggles, Tiggy went into labour. She had moved her nest about five times since Yule much to her mate's despair. Every location she chose was carefully decorated with charms and Elven runes, a bed of soft fragrant hay covered with furs lovingly made up and a selection of offerings to the newborn Elfling made. Each time she inspected it and told him she wanted it moved. None of the places she picked felt right despite Dobby's best efforts. The little Elf had lost a fair bit of weight in the panic of trying to get everything ready in time. Even Severus lost track of where Tiggy was as she spent her time preparing for the birth, choosing nest sites and then making Dobby move them.

The first thing Severus knew of Tiggy's labour was a wailing chant seemingly coming from the walls of his kitchen as he sat with a cup of coffee idly flicking through a Potion's Journal as he waited for Harry to wake. They had worked hard the day before and Severus didn't expect to see him much before ten o'clock.

As he stared around the room, the chant was picked up by a chorus of female voices until the very walls seemed to reverberate with it. The chant rose and rose, and Severus was unsurprised to see a bleary-eyed messy-haired Harry stumbling from his room, having been awoken by the noise. The wailing reached a crescendo, a high note held for what seemed like an age before it was silenced by three beats of what sounded like a huge bass drum. In the sudden silence neither Wizard immediately picked up the cries of the Elven newborn, but as their ears became more accustomed to normal noise levels, the tiny cries were clear.

"Is that…? Harry whispered looking stunned.

Severus nodded, looking equally awestruck.

With a pop and sparkle, Tiggy appeared in the kitchen, shortly followed by Dobby holding an awkward looking wriggling bundle.

Tiggy bowed to Severus formally.

"Master, as is my duty, I come to inform you of the birth of my heir," she said.

Severus nodded having expected the announcement, not realising Tiggy had not finished.

"And her brother."

Severus sagged onto a nearby chair.

"But…how…I mean, you…" for the first time possibly in his adult life, Severus was completely lost for words. "Twins?" he finished weakly.

Tiggy nodded smugly. She was rather enjoying her Master's reaction. She waved imperiously behind her for Dobby to come forward. Now that he was not hidden behind her, it was clear that the reason the bundle he held looked awkward was because it was in fact two bundles. Each contained an Elfling, a tiny version of their parents, but smaller, more wrinkled and of indeterminate sex.

Tiggy took one of the bundles from her mate and held it towards Severus.

"My heir, she will be named Salva."

She gave Salva back to Dobby and picked the other Elfling.

"This is my son, he will be named Sal."

She returned the baby to her mate, who nodded and disappeared with both babies. He would care for the Elflings for the next three days.

Harry, who didn't really understand the fuss over the fact that Tiggy had given birth to two babies, stepped forward to offer his congratulations.

Tiggy grinned at him as he offered his hand. She took his hand and turned his arm so the veins were visible in his wrist.

"Eager aren't we Master Harry?" she chuckled.

"Tiggy!" said Severus sharply, interrupting her. "I have not told him, he doesn't understand."

"Not told me what?" asked Harry indignantly.

"That my children were chosen to guard you. Both of you. Their bloodlines were carefully selected to give you both the best possible protection against what may come."

Harry gaped at her in a most unattractive way.

"Huh?" he said, unable to even formulate the question.

Tiggy laughed and set about making tea as Severus gave Harry a brief explanation of House Elf mating traditions and the significance of the union between Tiggy and Dobby. The three sat round the kitchen table with their mugs.

"Their names were chosen long before they were born Master Harry. Salva means "wise" and Sal means "saviour". My heir will guard my Master as is right and proper, and my miracle son, my heir's younger twin will guard the Saviour of the Wizarding world. Once old enough, about a week old, they will be ready to be bonded," Tiggy paused, glancing over to Severus. "It will require the full Blood Bonding Master, as Dobby's oath to Harry is unofficial."

"What does that mean?" asked Harry.

Severus rolled up his right sleeve to the elbow. About halfway up his arm were a series of marks, that on closer inspection appeared to be tooth marks.

"The full Blood Bonding requires the Elfling to be unfed for two days. A simple rite is performed asking for, and receiving an oath of loyalty and then the Bond is sealed by the Elfling biting their Wizard. The blood from the wound imprints the magical signature of the Wizard on the Elfling."

Harry looked slightly green at the thought as Severus rolled his sleeve down again, covering the marks once more.

Tiggy just grinned toothily and put down her cup. "You shall have another set to decorate that arm Master," she said happily and popped away.

"What will it mean, that Sal is my Elf?" asked Harry. He didn't like the idea of a sentient being bound to him. Whilst he knew on an intellectual level that Tiggy was bound to Severus, to have an Elf of his own, a being he could order to stand in the way of an Avada Kedavra, or who would leap in front of it to save him if necessary was more than a little frightening.

"He will be able to know where you are at all times and will know if you are in danger. As an Elf he can Apparate, or whatever Elves call it, within Hogwarts boundaries, and can get through most wards in the same fashion. Given his ancestry, he knows antidotes and counters to anything I have knowledge of, and has innate knowledge of Dark magic and Dark artefacts and how to defend against them. In short he will be the best possible protection you could hope for."

Harry nodded seriously but inside he felt like someone had turned his insides to jelly. The thought of Tiggy's son potentially dying for him was terrifying.

Severus could see the thoughts whirring in Harry's head and decided to distract him with a little more knife practice.

The days following passed in what was now normal fashion for the Snape household. Harry and Severus practised duelling, knife fighting and potion making. They played chess and read in front of the fire.

Two days before the train was due to bring the returning students back after the holidays; Tiggy brought her two Elflings to be bonded. The Elflings had grown considerably since the Snapes had last seen them. Severus and Salva knelt down facing each other.

"Do you offer your oath of loyalty?" asked Severus.

"I do. To my death if need be," replied the Elf.

Severus rolled up his sleeve and the small Elf carefully bit his arm just below the tooth marks her mother had made so many years before. The wound healed almost instantly.

"That's it?" asked Harry, more than a little relieved.

"That's it. That's all there is to it," replied Severus.

Harry then completed the ritual with Sal, and the Snape family officially grew by two.

Severus removed his head from his hands and re-read the letter that had arrived via owl that morning. Somehow, after all the joy over the holidays, Severus had to try and explain this to Harry. But how would one go about that? The boy had enough to deal with without adding to it. Harry was currently in the Great Hall enjoying dinner with his returning classmates exchanging stories of gifts received and fun had over the festive period. The holiday had put a sparkle back in the emerald eyes, a sparkle that had been absent for far too long. How did one explain that a family member had gone completely round the twist? It had been clear from his behaviour previously that he wasn't stable, but this was madness on a scale unknown. Paranoid delusion wasn't unknown in the Wizarding world, but most of the afflicted ended up safely in one of the appropriate Healing establishments.

He knew the information was accurate. He'd trusted the supplier of it with his life on more than one occasion, and he had the proof on his arm. The Dark Mark was darkening slowly on his skin, the evidence of his former Master's return. There was no way he could return to His side as a spy now, with the adoption of Harry. It wasn't a secret and there was no way He wouldn't know. The Mark would darken from the pale grey it had been for over a decade to the fresh black it had been when he had been freshly branded. Then the Dark Lord would punish him using it. The pain would drive him mad if he didn't kill himself first. The first time he stepped outside the safety of Hogwarts' wards the Dark Lord would be able to locate him and be able to send Death Eaters after him if He didn't come Himself. The Dark Lord did not take desertion lightly. The example he had made of Regulus Black was indelibly painted in his memories. The lengths He had gone to in order to punish the young man had made even a couple of the seasoned sadists within the ranks of the Inner circle sick, Severus had only held onto his lunch by employing the full use of his Occlumency.

All of that notwithstanding, how could he possibly explain the Harry that Sirius Black, his own Godfather, had brought Lord Voldemort back to corporeal form?


	26. Draco

_A/N: Yes I know it's been ages. RL caught up with me and destroyed any hopes I had of writing anything. I had a lot to deal with at work, not that the situation is going to change but two days of leave tacked on to the end of a weekend has given me just enough breathing room to focus again, even if the phone kept on ringing even though they knew I wasn't to be contacted…_

Harry sat at the Slytherin table laughing and enjoying the company of his returning friends. Marcus watched him interact with the rest of his House, marvelling how the skinny fearful boy the Professor had all but threatened him to look after had developed into the happy muscular young man sat opposite him in such a short space of time. His confidence had grown too, not just confidence in his mind, but also in his body. Harry felt confident enough to take teasing from his friends, and jests about his messy hair, which was in the process of growing out from the awful short cut his Aunt had enforced. The result of that was that currently, it was even messier than before, and even less likely to stay tamed no matter what Harry did to try and control it.

Harry looked uneasily around the Great Hall at the students enjoying the feast that traditionally marked the start of term. It took him a while before he spotted the reason for his discomfort. Tristan was sat at the Hufflepuff table pushing his food round his plate with no apparent interest in eating anything. His eyes were red and he seemed to have trouble focussing on anything said to him. Once Harry's eyes had found him, he realised that Severus' training regarding "intelligent observation" was the reason he hadn't felt at ease. Subconsciously, he had already seen it and was still trying to analyse when his conscious mind had spotted the problem. So caught up with his examination of his abilities and worrying about what was wrong with Tristan, Harry completely missed his name being called until there was a gentle nudge at his elbow. He turned to face Draco, ready to tease him about the lapse in manners but his joke died in his throat when he saw Draco's face. Looking around him, he realised that most of the people near him at the table had stopped eating to look at him.

"What?" he asked, more testily than he had meant to.

His older House-mates resumed their dinner, leaving his friends to find out what was wrong. Not all of House Slytherin felt as magnanimous towards their newest "celebrity" snake, but none would show that outside their House in public.

"You were miles away Harry, we were worried something was wrong," muttered Marcus, trying not to show just _how_ concerned he'd been when Harry had apparently spaced out and stared at nothing for several minutes. "_Is_ there something wrong?" he asked when Harry didn't respond.

"Yes…No…I mean, maybe, I'm not sure. I need to talk to…" Harry glanced up at the staff table and frowned, realising that Severus had not followed him to dinner. "Damn! Where is he?"

Draco followed Harry's line of view and realised who he was talking about. He glanced over at Marcus who nodded.

"The Professor spends most of the first evening back dealing with students coming back from…students who have been…that is, if they've…ah…" Draco stuttered into silence before he could embarrass himself any further, or say something that he wasn't ready for anyone else to know yet.

"What Draco is saying, very badly I may add, is that the Professor will be healing those students who came back from the holidays injured," said Marcus.

Harry swung round so quickly to look at Marcus opposite him that he had black spots in front of his eyes for several seconds. Whilst he knew Severus had been helping Tristan, it hadn't occurred to him that there were others. Or that Severus did this alone, with no apparent help from anyone else. For a moment he was consumed with jealousy that someone else was the focus of Severus' attention this evening, before he realised just how uncharitable that thought was. He was healed and more or less alright, he'd been adopted and was safe and secure, with friends to call his own who understood his need for privacy.

Harry relaxed and realised that whilst he had been thinking, he had missed the Headmaster's dismissal of the students to their Houses and the Hall was slowly emptying. He took the opportunity to dart over to the Hufflepuff table to speak to Tristan. He had to push his way through to get to the table as he was going in the opposite direction to the flow of people. By the time he got to where Tristan had been sitting, the Hufflepuff was nowhere in sight. Cursing under his breath, Harry turned in time to see Tristan's mop of brown hair disappearing through the doors and turn left to the stairway down to the Badger Sett. Defeated, he trudged back to his friends and followed them to the Slytherin Common Rooms, thinking about Tristan as he walked. He realised that the first time he had met the older boy, Tristan had told him that he was a Ravenclaw – probably a way of concealing his identity, although not a very good one. In the circumstances they met however, it was probably the only one he could think of at the time whilst being so scared.

Harry roused himself from his thoughts when Severus entered the Common rooms to give his usual start of term speech: part reminder about Slytherin values, part reminder of his office hours (this given with covert looks at several students) and part reminder to those in fifth and seventh year that exams loomed and that high results were expected of Slytherin House.

Professor Snape looked around the shifting mass of children in front of him; examining expressions of those he knew would probably be hurt, trying to judge severity of injuries by gauging their pain. It was a task he didn't look forward to at the beginning of each term, and he had already spent over an hour with a Gryffindor who had apparently "been smart" with his step-father and had been whipped for his cheek. The boy's back had been flayed open and it was a miracle he had made it to Hogwarts in time to be healed. But healed he had been, his back scarred and sore but no longer bleeding, his eyes red from the tears shed on his Potions Master's robes as he talked through what had happened. He had been released to the Gryffindor Tower with a vial of Dreamless Sleep and an appointment to speak further to the Potions Master about what had happened.

Severus also knew there was probably a Ravenclaw girl in his office, using his private shower trying to scrub herself clean after Gods knew what her eldest brother had made her do over the holidays. Despite the now regular meetings of the House Heads, and the growing realisation that the problem of abuse was not confined to Slytherin now that the other Heads of House knew what to look for, most of the children still came to him. He was constant, he was safe and he would not smother them in sympathy. One girl had even smiled at him as he had healed a wound to her most intimate area and told him why his lack of sympathy reassured her.

"You just solve the problem without making it worse. My Granna was the same; she said that if you were looking for sympathy it came between shit and syphilis in the dictionary."

That lost thirteen year old girl had gone on to be Head Girl and was now a force to be reckoned with in the Ministry.

Severus shook himself from his reverie and noticed what his eyes had been telling him, that there were only two children badly injured enough for their pain to show, and that Harry was beside himself with worry over something.

"I will be in my office for the rest of the evening. Flint, the usual please. Draco, my office in ten minutes; Adrian, ten minutes after that. Snape, with me now."

Severus turned and strode out of the Common Room with Harry in tow. They walked in silence for the few minutes it took to reach his office.

"Wait here for a moment," murmured Severus and entered his office quietly to see if there was a sobbing Ravenclaw in his bathroom.

There wasn't, but there were signs that she had been there. The floor was wet and the towel was still damp. Not too bad then if she hadn't stayed, but he would have to deal with the issue at some point.

He opened the door and ushered in his worried son. Severus took his seat behind the desk but Harry seemed too agitated to sit down very long and rather than sit ended up pacing the floor instead.

"Something's wrong with Tristan!" blurted Harry, still trying to assess what he'd seen earlier that evening. He was facing the fireplace when he said it so wouldn't have seen the look of anguish cross Severus' face. By the time he turned, the look was gone.

"What makes you say that?" asked Severus, although he had been expecting it. His feeling of dread hadn't eased when he'd seen the Rawn boy alight the train at Hogsmeade, although that had been when the owl from London had found him.

Harry ceased his pacing and sat at the desk. He closed his eyes and drew on his Occlumency skills to bring up the moment he had seen Tristan in the Great Hall.

"He wasn't eating, just pushing his food around the plate. He looked thinner and he had dark circles under his eyes. But why? He's been here all holiday!"

Severus closed his eyes.

"No, he hasn't," he ignored the sharp intake of breath from the other side of the desk and continued. "There was a family event he had to attend, which meant he had to leave the Castle. He's been gone about ten days and returned on the train with the rest of the students."

There was a knock at the door which interrupted Harry's train of thought. He knew Draco was due so left his seat and crossed the office to the door.

"You'll check on him won't you?" he asked quietly.

"Yes, I will, as soon as I am able."

Satisfied by the response, Harry opened the door to let Draco in and left for the short walk back to the Common Room.

He spotted Marcus sat by the fire with several younger students but the older boy gave him a minute headshake when Harry started towards them. He spotted the tears on one girl's face at almost the same moment. Understanding this was an example of the therapy that Marcus had told him about, where mistreated children would share their experiences to make them less frightening and to develop a support network of their own. Harry had not been part of a group, partly because he had been able to talk to Severus, but also because he shared a room with Draco. Far from being the pompous prat Harry had always thought him to be, Draco was now a close friend and Harry had been forced to be open about some of his experiences after waking his roommate with his nightmares, despite his skills with Occlumency. Draco was an exceptionally light sleeper, the slightest whimper from Harry would have him awake and shaking his former nemesis from his bad dreams.

As the best seats had been taken by the fire, Harry grabbed a book from his trunk and settled himself into an armchair where he had a view of the door so he could see when Draco returned. He became engrossed in the intricacies of the mind arts and almost didn't notice Draco's return. Harry's eyes narrowed over the top of the book, all interest in the topic now gone as he watched his friend make his way quietly and unobtrusively to the dorms without speaking to anyone. Harry turned his head very slightly to glance at Marcus, who was also watching the blonde, even though he was speaking to the group still clustered around the fire. He gave Harry the smallest possible nod, flicked his eyes once more to Draco and then returned his full attention to the boy now talking quietly.

Harry waited until Draco was out of sight, yawned convincingly and put a bookmark in the book he had been reading. He nodded his goodnights to his House Mates, politely declining a game of cards and an offer of a butterbeer as he made his way across the room. He quickly trotted down the short corridor to the room he shared with Draco, and slipped in the door silently. Harry could hear water running so figured he had a good half hour before Draco emerged. For all of the inaccurate names Ron had called him while Harry had been a Gryffindor, and some of those since he had stopped being a Gryffindor, Draco was definitely vain. More so now that he was actively pursuing Hermione. Harry didn't think anyone else had particularly noticed, although of course Ron had taken offence to "the prince of Slytherin" hanging around with "normal people".

It was a bit of a surprise therefore when Draco emerged less than ten minutes later, wearing only a pair of boxer shorts and a towel wrapped round his head like a turban. It was a bigger surprise for Draco who hadn't been expecting Harry to be in their room, having seen him engrossed in a large book in the Common Room. He startled like a spooked horse before getting himself under control.

"Gaah! You…Merlin's tits you scared me!" exclaimed Draco, trying to rescue the towel from his head to cover the scar on his chest.

"I thought you needed someone to talk to. It's about your turn by now isn't it?"

Draco turned his back on his friend and muttered something unintelligible under his breath while trying to find some pyjamas in his trunk.

"I haven't forgotten what you said at the beginning of the year either. About "not being the only one". You're far from the only one, but it helps to talk about it," continued Harry.

"Yeah? Really?" snarled Draco, "Try and tell me I'm not the only one _punished_ for something that isn't wrong, for doing something _inappropriate_, for saying something that isn't _"in line with our family values"_, for not wanting to be…to be…" Draco dissolved into sobs, leaning over his trunk, hanging on to the edges to keep himself upright as he broke down.

Harry hadn't expected Draco to lose his hold on his emotions quite so quickly and was momentarily stunned. He leapt off his bed and was at his friend's side in a second.

"Draco…" The words died in his throat as he saw the scar on Draco's chest, the scar Draco had concealed with the towel before he turned around.

Draco saw where he was looking and moved to cover himself, but Harry was now the stronger of the two by quite some margin and stopped him easily. Holding his friends' arms by his sides, Harry looked at Draco's face, a combination of shame and embarrassment, with real emotional pain mixed with the tears and snot on the usually impeccable visage made for painful viewing.

"Seen enough?" asked Draco in a broken voice, trying to turn away.

"Never. You are my friend," said Harry softly and released Draco's arms only to envelope him in a hug.

Draco clung to him as though he was drowning and Harry was a life preserver. Harry's shirt quickly dampened with his friend's tears and he carefully led him to the bed. Draco collapsed into the mattress and tried to pull himself together.

"I don't want to join Vol…Him. My…Father was," he paused, "not impressed. He…he _burned_ me, told me I was betraying my ideals by not wanting to join. I told him they weren't my ideals, that I didn't accept them, that Muggleborns have as much right to learn magic as those born into magic families. So he used the Cruciatus curse on me. I screamed, and screamed and screamed. When it was over, I told him I was in love with a Muggleborn and would never join V-Voldemort. He nearly killed me; he would have done if not for my mother. I am still his only male heir, the heir to the Malfoy name and estates and she reminded him of it just in time."

Harry ran his hand through his hair and unbuttoned his shirt. Draco gasped when Harry took his shirt off and showed him. Although most of the scars had faded, they were still visible in the lantern light of their room. The words across his chest and the burns across his back stunned the aristocratic young man to silence.

"Who…Morgana's Grace Harry, what happened to you? Is this why the Professor adopted you?"

"Yes. My uncle did this because I was a _freak_, because I can do magic."

Draco started to cry again and clutched at Harry pulling him into a hug again. They sat like that for a while, taking comfort in each other, in the fact they were alive and _solid_.

Marcus found them in this pose and back out of the room quickly. He had urgent news for Harry regarding a friend from another House but didn't want to intrude on what had obviously been a very private moment between the two boys.

In the end, Harry found out at the same time as everyone else – at breakfast the following morning, the Headmaster announced the death of Tristan Rawn.


End file.
